Funny In Her Own Way
by WisdomState
Summary: Edith Crawley realizes that, yet again, she is the sister left behind - and decides to do something about it. Set in 1920 post Christmas Special , the middle daughter of the Crawley family refuses to give up on the man who once called her "lovely".
1. Preface

Funny In Her Own Way

An Edith/Anthony fic

_Preface_

Edith Crawley had always been an avid reader.

As long as she could remember, the literary world had been a stupendous distraction - a way to escape the modern world for a time, to get away from the reality of her own existence.

She loved books because they afforded her imagination the means to run free, and that the words, once read, stuck with her. Words on the page were one thing, but after her brown eyes cast over them, understood them, she could hear them in her mind whenever she chose.

Edith Crawley knew that this was not always a blessing.

**"**_I'm afraid you must."_

The words that she had come to despise echoed in her head for the umpteenth time, a frown pulling at her thin lips. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. The book she held in her hands had done as she feared - nothing. Nothing to distract her from the gentle, but firm voice of Sir Anthony Strallan that echoed once again in her mind.

She heaved a sigh, putting a marker in the book and setting down on the table beside her. Standing up, she straightened her long skirt and walked towards the window.

Thoughts of Strallan still haunted her, and she well knew that they were not about to stop.

_ I'm not ready..._She thought, staring out at the overcast sky. Her bare arms prickled in the cool air that came off the window, and she absentmindedly rubbed them with her delicate hands. _I'm not ready to give up._

But in the weeks that had followed her visit to Sir Anthony's estate, her hope for their once budding romance had begun to dwindle. She had spent Christmas and New Year's at Downton without much of anything going on. The servant's ball had been the beginning of a new series of investigations for the trial of her father's valet, Mr Bates, and not too long after, Mary and Matthew had announced their engagement to the family.

_ Mary and Matthew_. She thought with some disdain. Though was it disdain, she asked herself, that she felt when thinking about her older sister and cousin finding their happiness? It was a feeling closer to sadness, that reached into her heart, gripping it with cold claws and reminded her that she was still alone.

_And I was so close._

She shook her head, taking a step back. It had been Mary's fault, the end of her relationship before the war, but she could no longer blame her older sister for her unhappy state. The war had changed many things, and it was the war she truly blamed for her separation from Anthony.

_Anthony..._

Her brown eyes threatened to well with tears as her mind replayed their conversation again.

But Edith Crawley would not cry.

Pursing her lips, she walked away from the window, and out of the library. The sound of her heels were muffled by the carpeted floors as she made her way up the main staircase and down the hall to her room.

Light poured into the room from the tall, thin window. A small desk sat next to the large pane of glass, on top of which a pile of paper sat, and an unmistakable pile of crinkled paper next to the stack of pristine white stationary. Edith sighed, wandering over and picking up one of the crinkled pieces.

_To Sir Anthony_

_ How have you been? It seems too long since I saw you last, and -_

She stopped reading after the first line, knowing that all of them said the same thing. The last couple of weeks had been busy in the house, preparing for the marriage between her sister and Matthew, and had left much time for her to spend on her own. _Trying to write letters to a man who wants nothing to do with me. _She thought bitterly, discarding the paper on the floor. Her hope had been fading fast, and though her heart was broken, her brain refused to give up.

Edith smiled to herself at the thought. _I'm not giving up. _She reminded herself, and sat down at the desk. Her pale hand picked up the pen that sat next to her inkwell. Without hesitation, she set about writing a letter to Sir Anthony, though unlike its failed predecessors littering the desk, this letter was filled with purpose.

A slightly manipulative purpose, but Edith Crawley had a plan.

**"**_I don't accept a single word of that speech."_

_"I'm afraid you must."_

_No Sir Anthony, I do not. _


	2. This Game We Play

Chapter 1 - _This Game We Play_

February 1920 The day was sunny but cool, and a light blanket of snow coated the grounds of Sir Anthony's estate. The man himself was sitting in his drawing room by the fire, morning paper in hand, absentmindedly reading headlines without absorbing any of the information. _  
_He put down his paper for a moment to nurse a cup of tea, when a knock on the door came.

"Come in." Anthony said.

The valet entered, bowing politely before taking stride toward the seated master of the house. "Ah! Davis." Strallan said, greeting the man with a smile. Davis stretched a hand out to Sir Anthony upon approach, bearing a small envelope. "This letter just arrived for you, Sir Anthony."

"Thank you, good man." Anthony said, his smile widening. He returned his tea to the reading table on his left and took hold of the letter. "I wonder what it could -" He paused when he saw his own name in elegant handwriting, that he knew belonged to none other than Lady Edith Crawley.

Davis took his lord's silence as a cue to leave, and bowed himself out, closing the door behind him. Anthony hardly noticed the action, his blue eyes seemingly incapable of leaving the small envelope addressed to him.

_How long has it been?_

He asked himself, turning the letter over. Anthony noticed that the wax seal had already been broken - Davis had anticipated his wanting privacy, and had opened it for it. The older man deftly unfolded the letter from the envelope and cleared his throat, as if about to read aloud. He remained silent however, his breathing hitched as his eyes darted to the first line of text.

_Dearest Sir Anthony,_

_I write because there is nothing else to do. Please, have no fear, I have no wish to alarm you with this letter. I write merely to confirm that the situation between you and I has changed, but that it does not follow that I would end our communication as acquaintances - and I daresay, as friends._

_I had hoped, that since we have not seen one other in so long, you might consider coming to tea this week, at your convenience of course._

_I long to see you, and have desired your company for some time._

_Yours,_

_Lady Edith Crawley_

He looked at the letter incredulously for a full minute before reading it over again, as though there was something he had missed. _How unexpected_. He knew`what his eyes saw, what his brain was telling him, but what stumped Sir Anthony Strallan was that he did not know what his heart was doing.

The very first time he had spent an afternoon driving with Edith, he felt that he had found in her, a kindred spirit. A kindhearted, warm sort of person whom he had adored from the get go. He looked down at his right arm bitterly. Hung in its sling, it was a constant reminder of the war, and everything he'd lost along with the mobility. Don't dwell on it, old fool. That's right. It would only get worse the more he thought about what could have been if the war had never happened. If he were no longer a cripple, as he called himself.

_"If you think I'm going to give up on someone who calls me lovely..."_

Edith's sweet voice rang in his ears, a memory of the conversation that he had done battle with himself in order to have. Not being the selfish type, he did want to see the young Lady Edith in a marriage where she would be happy, with someone who was young and vigorous. But the part of him that loved her was no less heartbroken at the betrayal that happened when his mouth told her to give up on him.

What she had said had given him hope, a false hope, that she would fight for him. Even though a part of him knew it was best for her if he let her go, the letter held in his left hand rekindled a sliver of that same hope. He read the letter again, breathing deeply, deliberately.

"_the situation between you and I has changed,"_

Anthony's eyes fixed on that line, a reminder of the only option he gave her. To give up.

And so, he stood. Walking over to the bell, he pulled it and turned his attention back to the letter. "Well," he said to himself. "There's no reason you can't see her for tea." It was just as she had written: surely they were friends, and despite his affection for her, he saw no reason to end their acquaintance. Moreover, if she could be content in giving up their romance, he could as well.

_And if I can't..._he thought as Davis entered the room. "Yes sir?" The valet said. "I require assistance in writing a letter. I wonder if you might send up one of the maids, you know the one with the lovely handwriting, and then take it to be posted."

"Of course." Davis nodded. "Will that be all, sir?" Anthony nodded, still standing. Davis left promptly for the maid's quarters to fetch Elisabeth, who had become the personal favourite when it came to writing letters for Sir Anthony. Anthony waited, a shadow of a smile still on his lips.

_If I can't...__She'll never have to know. _

Life at Downton had become hectic.

At every turn there seemed to be some new thing to fuss over, something more pressing to plan. Edith heard nothing but of the wedding preparations and the servant's talk of Branson and Sybil being invited to Downtown for the event. Of course, Mary and her mother were in favour of Sybil coming to Downton; her father was harder to read on the subject, as he spoke little of such things to her.

She spent most of her time practicing the piano or reading, helping either when she was needed, or when she required a distraction from thoughts of a certain gentleman.

It had been a day since she sent off her letter to said gentleman, and in the 24 hours that had passed, she found herself growing more and more antsy the longer she went without hearing anything in return.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, she rose from her seat in the library and strode toward the tall window that looked out onto the front park. The hour was growing late, and with dinner approaching she could hardly expect mail now. Heaving a sigh, she pursed her lips and turned away from the window.

Edith moved across the floor, heading straight for the door.

She headed upstairs, hoping to busy herself with changing for dinner, though it was nearly a half hour early to be worrying about how she looked.

_Not that it matters to anyone__._

She frowned, trying to shake the bitter, harsh thoughts from her mind.

Just as she was about to turn into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, Edith ran into Carson, who seemed surprised to see her.

**"**Ah!" He exclaimed uncharacteristically, eyebrows raised. He bowed respectfully.

**"**Hello Carson." She smiled, bowing her head slightly.

It was odd to see Carson upstairs, she thought, realizing that it was only the maids that entered her family's rooms.

**"**Lady Edith, a letter came for you not five minutes ago. I set out to bring it to you immediately. " His expression was respectful, and unreadable, as always. He continued, taking a step away from her. "The maids expected you to be in your room, when I found that you were not, I had Anna leave your letter within."

**"**Thank you, Carson." Edith said, her gentle voice betraying no hint of her growing anticipation.

_A letter? At this time? It could only be..._

She watched him bow to her once more, before walking past her and down the stairs.

His absence washed her in relief, and she rushed into her bedchamber.

Anna had left the letter positioned upright on her dresser, where she would have no hope of missing it. Edith practically strode across the room, picking up the letter and instantly, deftly opened the envelope addressed to her in very neat handwriting.

At first, her heart skipped a beat - the handwriting on the letter was not one she recognized, and thought for a moment that her excitement was all for naught. As she read, her heart and mind relaxed slightly, realizing that he must have had someone write the letter for him.

A blush rose in her cheeks as her mind absorbed the words written on the page, which she quelled with some difficulty before reading it again for a second time.

_Dear Lady Edith,_

_it was a pleasure to receive your letter yesterday afternoon. I hope this letter finds you well, as I have heard the happy news with regards to your sister Mary. I imagine the house has quite picked up with preparations, and if you have the time to spare, I would be honored to take tea with you in the near future. _

****_If there is no objection, I shall be free tomorrow and the following afternoon. _

_The time is at your convenience, and I wait to hear from you. _

_Yours, __Sir Anthony Strallan_

Edith smiled to herself, and breathed a deep sigh. _There was nothing about 'us'. _She thought with some relief, although somewhere in her heart, she knew that there was also disappointment and uncertainty. _At least he said yes._

Her cheeks were still hot, and she breathed in deeply. She paced. She read the letter again.

She put the letter down.

******  
****"**Calm yourself." She said aloud, stopping her movement across the floor and closing her eyes. She sighed, when thoughts of Sir Anthony swam behind her eyelids, and a familiar tight feeling began to manifest in her chest. _Should I write him now? _She wondered. _Would tomorrow be too eager? _

No, _both _would be too eager, and would have been something she may have done before the war.

Tomorrow was fine, she decided, and sat herself down at her writing table. Did he suspect that she was playing a little game with him - and consequently, herself? If he did, his response made no reference to it. _And that's promising._She thought, folding her short letter and sealing it within an envelope.

Edith smiled to herself as she stood, looking at his name written so carefully on the front.

_Wouldn't it be funny if he was doing the same thing?_

Funny indeed, she realized, because it was very unlikely. Sir Anthony was an honest man, a good man, and once he made up his mind about one thing it was unlikely that he'd change it. Especially if he believed it to be the right thing.

_Well,_the middle daughter of the Earl of Grantham thought to herself, _I'll have to make him believe that I am the right thing. _

And with that, she left her room, not bothering to close the door, and set out to find one of the servants who could deliver the letter in the morning.

Not long after, she returned upstairs to change.

At dinner that night, Edith asked her parents if they minded that she had invited Strallan for tea the following afternoon.

Lady Violet looked like she swallowed something very large, Matthew and Mary exchanging one of their indecipherable moments of being on the exact same wavelength, a smile passing between them that Edith didn't even want to try and analyze.

Her mother looked a little confused, her blue eyes searching Edith's face for something hidden in her inquiry. "But of course we don't mind." She answered, glancing at her husband for confirmation. "Will he be staying for dinner as well?"

Edith opened her mouth to speak, and paused for a moment. "I don't know, I didn't think to ask."

**"**That's not very thoughtful of you, my dear." Violet said, regarding her with a bit of apprehension in her tone.

**"**Oh leave her be," Cora said, smiling at her daughter. "You can ask him tomorrow if you like. If that all fits in with your plans."

Edith couldn't help but smile. Her mother's expression read mischief, although kindly. **"**I'll do that. Thank you."

She looked at her father with gentle appreciation.

_You know nothing of my plans, mother._

Smiling to herself, she spent the rest of the meal in relative silence while there was more talk of the wedding being thrown about by the men and Mary.

Edith didn't pay attention to any of it. .


	3. Encouragement

**Chapter 2 -**_ Encouragement_  
Sir Anthony Strallan paced his drawing room for an hour that morning.

He had accepted Edith's kind invitation, but couldn't quell the restlessness that churned inside his chest as the hour drew nearer to their time of meeting. The image of her smiling face passed before his eyes and his heart clenched, his left hand involuntarily doing the same.

_It's only tea, old man. It's harmless._

He didn't believe Edith capable of a plot, after all, he knew she was too sweet for such games.

A knock came on the door, and he turned, coughing his acknowledgement.

His valet stood respectfully at the door, a slightly expectant look on his face.

"Ah," Anthony said, his tone enthusiastic. "Davis, yes. Is it time already?" He asked, realizing that he sounded nervous, if not a little zealous as well.

The older man bowed his head. "No Milord, if I'm not mistaken, Wilson won't be ready to leave for another half hour."

The mention of his chauffeur caused him to glance at the grandfather clock standing in the room's right-hand corner. His eyebrows raised, he saw that it was full well early to have been expecting departure.

_For goodness' sake_. He chided himself mentally, checking the clock again just to be sure.

"Milord," Davis' voice snapped him back to the conversation at hand, and he looked over at the man expectantly.

"Mr Pearson is on the telephone, Sir. He expressed a desire to speak with you."

"Oh, of course!" Anthony's face lit up, and took a step toward the door. "Thank you Davis."

The two men nodded - though the valet's motion had been more of a bow - at one another as Anthony passed him through the open door. Into the hallway he strode, making his way into the front hall where the telephone was sitting on top of the old wooden mantle.

Picking up the earpiece, he looked into it almost hesitantly before moving his lips closer to the receiver. "Hello there?" He said, his voice less confident than he would have liked it to be. He had to admit that the new technology still didn't sit quite right with him, though the ability to speak to someone in such a direct manner without their presence fascinated him.

A moment later, a voice echoed into his ear: "Sir Anthony Strallan, I presume?" The man's voice was gravelly and low, and very fitting of the investigator that he was.

"Indeed." He replied, a smile forming on his lips. "How have you fared in London?" Normally he would have been ashamed, being so direct with someone, but for the last two months he had been waiting for the call.

Quickly, the reply came. "Finally, some news."

"Oh?"

"I found the woman yesterday, Sir. She had been working as a maid at the Foxbridge Inn, just outside London."

"Did she seem well? That is, did you get the chance to speak with her?" His curiosity was unmistakable.

The man on the other line took a moment, and then replied: "Not just yet. But I am also working on finding out where she is living." Pearson sounded grieved, and Anthony couldn't keep the corners of his lips from pulling upward at the new information.

"Very well."

"Anything else, Sir?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you Pearson. I will be traveling to London tomorrow to meet you in person. I would like to see to this myself."

"Very good."

The receiver was put down, and Anthony looked up at the ceiling. He heaved a deep sigh, and rubbed his temple with his good hand.

He would have to tell Davis to pack his things; an impromptu trip to London would probably cause more than a few logistical problems for his valet, not to mention his sister and her husband. But, the time to worry was later, perhaps in the evening, when he could pour over the details at dinner. Looking at the clock, he was reminded of his engagement at Downton, and of the sweet young woman he had agreed to meet.

The car was waiting outside, and as his driver pulled out of the park, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing his Edith.

_Not mine._He reminded himself, looking out the window and forcing his smile to disappear.

_Not ever._

* * *

The door was opened, and Sir Anthony walked in,then removing his hat.

Carson, the Earl's loyal butler welcomed him in, offering to take the garment for him as he entered the estate. The front foyer looked much as it always had - a warm light welcomed him in, a pleasing contrast from the crisp February air that had chilled the older man even during the drive. The familiar feeling of grandeur washed over him as he walked slowly further into the main hall, still admiring the various paintings and carvings that hung on walls and on mantles. He followed closely behind Carson, who led him into the main parlour where he knocked politely on the door, and showed him in.

He saw the room in its entirety before any of them realized he was there.

His blue eyes surveyed the people present - Mary Crawley, who stood by the window next to her fiancee - the two seemed deep in conversation, contrary to the relatively openness of the rest of the company. Robert's mother, Lady Violet sat reading in a lounge-chair nearer another window, looking at the pages of the newspaper with scrutiny, squinting slightly at the small print through her glasses.

Lady Edith sat near a small table, a pen in her hand, the back end of which was pressed against her lower lip in thought.

He admired her there, looking so pensive and wondered what on Earth could be troubling her so - if the slight knit of her brow and the downward turn of the corners of her lips were any indication.

As soon as Carson knocked, however, Edith's eyes shot up - as did everyone else's, though Anthony did not notice. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, he worried that his heart might stop if her brown eyes stayed locked on his for a moment longer. Thankfully, Violet's voice pulled him out of her trap and he looked up, smiling.

"Sir Anthony, welcome."

"Why thank you, Lady Violet."

It was then that Mary and Matthew finally turned around, and Edith stood, placing her pen and paper on the table and smoothing out her dress.

Anthony took a few steps into the room, nodding his thanks at Carson, who remarked: "Shall I bring the tea?" He asked to all of them. Violet replied: "Yes, thank you." Followed by a chorus of similarly polite responses from everyone else around the room.

Carson bowed before leaving.

The room stayed silent for a moment, a decidedly awkward moment, before Edith - _bless her_- took two steps forward, effectively closing the gap between the two of them and held out her left hand. Instinctively, he took it, noting that anyone else would have held out their right hand, but for her, it was seamless.

"So good to see you again, Sir Anthony." She said with a smile so genuine she nearly had to reproach herself. At least while Mary and Matthew are here... The middle sister thought to herself, finally releasing the older gentleman's hand.

"And to you." He replied, his gaze softening the longer he looked at her.

He turned his attention to the dowager, who had not stood up to greet him. He walked a few paces closer to her, and took the gloved hand that she held out - and she had still used her right hand, making the exchange less natural than it had with Edith. "And how do I find you all this afternoon?" He asked cheerfully, looking at the couple by the window, who had broken apart and now stood open toward him.

"Very well, thank you." Matthew replied with a smile. Mary nodded. "We're all quite well."

"Lovely, I believe I owe you a congratulations as well." Anthony remarked, his smile growing.

Matthew and Mary looked at one another, a look which did not go unnoticed by Edith or Anthony that sent a pang of regret through both parties, and then Matthew spoke again.

"That's kind of you. Thank you very much."

"Have you set a date?" He inquired politely.

"Not yet, but hopefully all the preparations will have been made by summertime." Mary was the one to reply, her diplomatic answer appeasing him, but there was still the slightest hint of a stinging kind of emotion in her voice as her eyes fluttered over Edith.

"What an excellent thought." Anthony said, trailing off.

"Oh," Edith said, breaking the slight tension that had settled on the room. "Please sit down." She gestured to the seat nearest her, which was conveniently angled so the person sitting could still see the room in its entirety.

He nodded his thanks, and after he sat, Edith assumed her position on her smaller chair. Mary and Matthew moved away from the window, each taking a seat on the sofa next to Violet.

"Do forgive Robert and Lady Crawley for being absent." The dowager began. "They chose to spend the afternoon out for a walk."

"We asked them not to, what with the temperature outside, and - " Matthew said, looking out at the window.

"Oh of course." Anthony said, holding up his good hand. "It is not too cold, and would be perhaps beneficial for one's health to be out in it. At least for a short while."

"That was certainly their logic." Violet said, the sting in her voice unmistakable - her opinions on any subject always abundantly clear.

"Is the wedding to be at Downton?" He asked of the couple, deciding to change the subject. His eyes shifted over to Edith, who sat looking very patiently at him, her hands folded in her lap.

"No."  
"No." Both Violet and Matthew answered, though Violet decided to take precedence and continue. "No, plans are being made for the wedding to be in London."

"Splendid! London in the summer is such a lovely place to be." He said, his eyes still unwittingly on Edith.

She saw him looking at her, and looked down at her lap, though not before he noticed she had the slightest of smiles on her lips.

_Don't torture yourself._He warned internally.

"Indeed it is." Matthew concurred.

"Matthew -" Mary the interrupted putting a delicate hand on his arm, and glancing at the grandfather clock standing at attention in the corner of the parlour.

The young man looked at his fiancee, an eyebrow raised.

"Weren't you supposed to call, oh what's-his-name.." She said, trying to remember a name and sighing in exasperation.

"Mr Pegg, about the tailoring?" Matthew finished.

"Yes."

"I could call him later."

"You promised you would call. I can have Carson bring tea to the study if you would -"

"Very well, my darling." He gave in quickly, sensing his fiancee's desire to leave the room. He knew that she had always been rather bored by Sir Anthony, but Mary had told him things - told him of the relationship he had had with Edith before the war. Frankly, he thought he understood why she would rather not be in the same room as the two of them.

Their exchange had left time for Lady Grantham to notice two things - that Mary was still uncomfortable around Anthony Strallan, which did not surprise her in the least; Edith and Anthony were hardly aware of the conversation going on between the couple however, for as far as the dowager could tell, Anthony's eyes hadn't left her face anytime in the last few minutes.

Edith had been looking at Mary however, with some disdain - as per usual, especially where Anthony was concerned. Although she had forgiven Mary for ruining the proposal before the war, she still harbored a fair bit of resentment for being so happily engaged.

"Sir Anthony." Mary said, her dark eyes shifting over to where their visitor sat. "Please excuse us as well. We made an arrangement for a phone call."

Anthony could have suggested that she stay - after all, the last time he checked, placing a phone call only took one person. In fact, years ago, he may have suggested it before thinking, but that was before he knew Edith. Before her loveliness far outshone the elegant but cold beauty of her older sister. Instead, he merely smiled, and stood.

"Of course." Was his answer. "You can't keep them waiting, especially where it involves planning." He said graciously, as Matthew and Mary stood.

Without another word, they exited and Edith unintentionally exhaled an audible sigh.

"Now am I to be banished as well?" Violet asked, only somewhat rhetorically as she caught the distracted look Edith cast at Anthony, who was no longer focused on her.

"Really, I don't know what you -" The middle daughter began in exasperation, turning her attention back to her grandmother.

"I'm sure you don't." Violet said cryptically.

At that moment, Carson returned with a tray in hand, and it seemed as though he had already gotten to Mary and Matthew - there were cups enough for the three of them, and a tall, beautifully painted china pot sitting next to the milk and sugar.

The three of them watched the butler in silence as he put down the tray, and poured each of them a perfectly equal amount of tea into the small china cups.

Carson wasn't used to such attention, and felt slightly uncomfortable under what he expected was scrutiny from them, and he finished the job quickly. "Thank you." Both Edith and Sir Anthony said at the same time while Carson made his exit.

"Lady Grantham," Anthony said after a moment. "I take it you've been helping with the arrangements for the marriage?"

"Hardly. Although being responsible for the connections in London, I am required to know certain things."

"Mary and Matthew are doing the bulk of it." Edith chimed in. "They seem intent on doing it mostly alone - I believe papa wishes we were all involved a little more."

"Will your sister and her husband be returning from Ireland?"

"I believe so." She said with a smile.

"I expect you're all eager to see her again."

"Not as eager as she is to return to Downton, I should think." The dowager interjected, that same, ambiguously scathing tone present as their pleasant conversation continued.

* * *

The afternoon had progressed much as Edith expected. He had politely declined her offer that he should stay for dinner, on account of him having some business to attend to - business that he did not want to speak much about. On the whole, Edith was not entirely satisfied with the interaction, but thought it a good first-meeting after their last time together at his own home.

Slightly awkward, intelligent and light conversation had been made between Lady Violet and the two of them, and the whole time, Edith wanted nothing more than to have Anthony all to herself. All in good time. She reminded herself, as she watched her visitor be driven away from the estate.

Lady Violet stood next to her, lips pulled into a tight line, and Edith couldn't tell if it was because of the cold coming in from the early evening air, or because of the afternoon's lengthy discussion about the wedding - a wedding she could have cared less about, had Anthony's interest in the subject  
not sounded so genuine.

As soon as the Rolls-Royce was out of earshot, Violet turned to her granddaughter, and looked over her face with some interest. "Tell me dear, did that all go according to your plan?"

The sudden words from the dowager countess surprised the redhead.

"My plan?"

"Oh, don't let me you haven't got a plan." She looked at her with concern - but whether or not it was genuine was unclear.

Edith smiled sidelong at her grandmother. "You can hardly accuse me of devising a plot."

"_Accuse _you? Oh Heavens no. But I would hope."

"Oh?" Edith's surprise was genuine, having noted Lady Violet's disapproval of her enthusiasm for him since the war took the use of his right arm. "I didn't think you were keen on -"

"I wasn't." She interrupted, anticipating her granddaughter's train of thought. "I may not be. But I do have eyes. And seeing the two of you interact reminds me of how your mother acted around Robert for the first few years of their marriage."

"I always thought papa married mama for the money."

"Oh, he did. And that was all my doing -" Edith smirked, which Violet chose not to see as they looked over the front park together. "But the patience, my dear, that came with that marriage, was almost infuriating. They didn't start with love," she paused, turning with the slightest hint of a smile on her lips. "At least, not on your father's part, but I will say that having it to begin with is a luxury most people in our world don't get to experience."

Edith took a moment, taking in the speech, hearing Violet's words echo through her - renewing her hope.

This wasn't the first conversation she had had with her grandmother, heart-to-heart, but it never ceased to amaze her when those small moments of openness came between the two of them.

"So, you're suggesting I pursue the relationship we had before the war ?" The middle Crawley girl asked finally.

"I'm suggesting you do _something_, whether or not you have a plan."

"And if I told you that I did?"

"You're a Crawley, my dear." The dowager countess replied, the smile on her lips now very mischievous. "Remember that."

"And?"

"And that when we choose to play, we do not lose."

Edith couldn't help but chuckle to herself, standing there on the front step of Downton Abbey with her grandmother, feeling more alive than she had in months. Feeling good - the cold air on her face, and the most surprising ally at her side.


	4. London Rain

A/N: Two updates within a week? WHAT IS THIS?

This is me, completely and totally avoiding doing my own (real) work. I have 4 commissions due last week, and how do I spend my time? Writing Downton Abbey fanfiction, of course.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters, names, or places within the world of Downton Abbey. Rights for this series belong to the rather brilliant mind of Julian Fellowes.

* * *

Chapter 3 - _London Rain_

_March 1920_

.

Rain saturated the grounds of Downton, casting a gloom over the house and its inhabitants. The day for both upstairs and downstairs alike had been slow, and the calm rain seemed to soak everyone in an air of melancholy. On the main floor, Cora and Lord Grantham sat reading; a newspaper in his hand, the headlines of which read something about the Irish revolutionaries causing more stir in town, he occasionally turned to his wife to remark on the smaller headlines.

Matthew had traveled to London some days before, a case in the village had required some extra attention and Mary decided to stay at Downton. In the meantime, she had taken to reading in the library - a location that Edith had almost entirely given up, since her elder sister had assumed residence in the place.

The middle daughter of the Earl of Grantham sat at the piano bench, staring at the keys with scrutiny, as though willing them to reveal some unknown secrets to her the longer she stared. A delicate hand hovered over the keys, a melody playing through her head - one that she had played frequently before the war. It reminded her of a simpler time, when she was happy to sit with her family, talk about medial topics that mattered little then - and almost nothing now.

She watched her own hand float there, taking note of the way her thin fingers curled, her skin soft, her nails manicured and healthy-looking. A slight frown tugged at her lips, when she remembered that it was not too long before that the same hand had helped write letters for men, soldiers who no longer had hands and fingers to write with. That hand, had helped a hundred people write home, to their loved ones. And she had been thanked for it.

Since the war, she felt as though she had lost her place, lost her ability to do good. Her helping in that small way had given her a purpose, made her useful, and had helped her realize what her sweet, younger sister had known so much longer than anyone else at Downton - that there was something more.

_And now she has her life, away from us_.

She thought, not bitterly, but accompanied by a wistful sigh.

Putting her hand down, she played a chord, and let it ring through the empty room. Smiling, she looked up and around her. This was home, it was all she was used to, and yet, that hand was still tingling, still itching to do more.

And then, she got an idea.

It had been a week since Sir Anthony had come for tea, and she felt like it was high time she see the man again. Work on improving his opinion of her.

_And he may provide a distraction from all of this..._

The thought was guilty - she knew she should be thankful for her lot in life - but she still felt like the grandeur of it all could be oppressive enough. If getting married to someone rich wasn't her only goal in life, she was certain that she would have cared far less about her appearance, that she paled in beauty compared to her sisters, and that her success with the opposite sex in social situations were, to say the least, lacking.

_That's not the only goal anymore._

She reminded herself.

Anthony was a man she cared for. And it was some time after the war - more than likely, it was the day that he had tried to convince her to give up the hope that they would someday be romantic again - she realized marriage meant rather little to her. It was a nice idea, and sure enough she was still jealous of Mary and Matthew's apparent happiness, and the fact that Sybil had been married before either of them meant that she was now the odd one out, but still she thought that if she could at least experience love, it would be enough.

Her plan had been simple in the beginning, she wanted to be married. To him.

But her plan had been concocted on the assumption that she could succeed in spending more time with him. She thought that, if under the guise of being indifferent to the romance that had once existed, the two of them could spend more time together, and with all that she had, she would try to make him realize that their being together was indeed the right thing.

_After all this time, it still is for me._

She stood, smoothing out her dress slowly, and walked to the study, where she knew she would find paper for writing.

_These hands could someday write his letters too..._

She thought affectionately, but not before that familiar sad uncertainty crept its way back into her mind.

* * *

Sir Anthony had been in London for two days.

It had been raining since before he left his own estate, but he was determined not to let it keep him from achieving his goals in the big city.

After meeting with Mr Pearson, the investigator, he sought out his sister Mrs Chetwood and her husband, who had agreed to host him while he tended to his business there.

Aggie was a cheerful sort of woman, six years his junior but much more youthful in spirit. She was also quite tall, thin and blonde like him, with the same bright blue eyes that Mr Chetwood had once said "reminded him of the sky on a cloudless day". Anthony was quite fond of the man, and had been pleased when they announced their engagement. Since the marriage, they had been living in London.

"Have you had dinner, Anthony?" Aggie asked that evening, as she spied her brother reading a letter he had brought with him.

He looked up at her, as though she had pulled him out of some very deep thought. "Oh, no. Not yet, but I'm not stopping long." He smiled, putting the letter down and folding it neatly. "I returned for this -" He held up the letter before putting it in his breast pocket. "Directions for the Foxbridge Inn, I thought I might stop there this evening."

"Is that where she is? "

"I believe so."

"Very well. Would you like me to call for the car?"

Anthony almost turned her offer down - and then remembered his inability to drive himself anywhere. His hand sat useless in its sling, resting against his chest. It had been long enough since the war, but the realization that he could no longer function in the most simple of ways still sent a pang of bitterness and anger through him. An arm was a terribly trivial thing until it no longer had life, and yet was still part of the living body.

Of this he reminded himself often.

_But not often enough_.

"Yes, thank you. I'll be ready as soon as your driver can leave."

Aggie nodded and turned to leave the room. As she turned the knob, she looked back at her brother and paused. Her blue eyes searching his face, and settling on the sling after a moment. "You know," she said. "You've aged, Anthony. And it's not been just the war. Something is troubling you, and I daresay I hope you figure it out before long."

He remained silent, the frankness of the remark not stinging quite so much as the realization of being quite right.

Anthony had stayed with her in London in the weeks before he left for the war, after reporting to the officials. About a month after the dinner party when the news of the war had been declared by the Earl of Grantham, Anthony still thought mostly of how much a fool he'd been for allowing Mary to dissuade him on the subject of Edith Crawley. Looking back, he would have been happy to have married her before the war. If only he'd been brave enough to ask, regardless of Mary's comments. There had been no faith in himself, and little faith in Edith's affection.

_I should have had more faith in her_.

Aggie returned minutes later, informing him that the car was in front of the house whenever he should desire to leave.

He thanked her, and out into the rain he went.

* * *

An hour later, the Chetwood's car pulled into a small gravel park outside of London. A brick Inn stood like an obelisk in the middle, a square building that went back further than it did out.

Anthony stepped out of the vehicle and quickly made his way to the large, dark green door that was inlaid with gold paint, slightly chipped at the corners. The rain continued to pour, but the gentleman hardly noticed as he inhaled deeply, pushing the door open.

A receptionist sat behind a mean desk in one corner of the lobby; the rest of the room was open, with a decent-looking rug and some benches by the walls.

The woman must have heard him enter as he opened the door - the sound of the pouring rain silenced the moment he shut the door behind him. Taking a few strides into the room and toward the woman behind the desk, he removed his hat and bowed his head to her as he approached. "Good evening." He said to her, noting her dark apparel and neatly curled hair.

"Good evening, Sir. Are you here for the night?" She asked, her accent peculiar - sounding almost Irish.

"Oh," He began, apology in his tone. "No, I'm simply looking for someone."

"Very well. Which room?" The receptionist asked, looking to a wall next to her, where little keys sat on numbered nails, no doubt corresponding to the Inn's rooms.

Anthony shook his head. "I'm looking for one of your staff, actually."

This surprised the woman, and her eyes snapped back up to him.

"Elisabeth Lyall." He continued, the smile on his face polite, but betraying the nervousness he felt that he managed to mask in his voice.

Wordlessly, the woman stood and hurried down the hall to her immediate right - the staff quarters, no doubt.

Anthony put his hat on the desk, and adjusted the collar of his shirt with his newly freed hand. The place was dimly lit, and warm despite the cool rain pouring outside. Then, the sound of two pairs of footsteps down the wooden hallways echoed out and into his ears.

He looked up, and his face lit up when he saw the very woman he'd been searching for the last few years.

"Ms Lyall." He said, bowing deeper than he had for the receptionist, who now stood just slightly behind the younger woman.

Elisabeth paled when she saw Anthony, a hand coming up to clasp her ribs - a simple action that reminded Anthony of Maud, who had done the same thing whenever shocked. _Perhaps that's Elisabeth's reason..._ He thought, still smiling.

"Sir Anthony." The young woman said after a moment, the shock of seeing him slowly wearing off.

"So lovely to see you again, after so long. You're looking well." He said, looking over her face with kind eyes.

Almost eight years had changed her, but he still found her face very pleasing to the eye. She bore a slight resemblance to Sybil Crawley, he noted after a moment's observation, in her full lips and the way her high forehead made her face look more open - especially with her dark hair pulled back in a housekeeper's bun. She was not so tall as Sybil, but had a similar shape as well. Her age, he hardly knew, but placed her somewhere between the age of twenty-five and thirty.

"Thank you Sir." She replied finally, a small smile now forming on her own lips. "Forgive me, I... it is an honor to see you. How have you been?"

"Well enough, well enough." He said good-naturedly, picking up his hat, so he wouldn't forget it. "Although, I have come here with a very specific purpose in mind."

"Really, Sir?"

"Yes. I've been trying to find you, Elisabeth." His use of her first name caused the receptionist to raise an eyebrow, the intimacy between the two of them coming as a surprise. "For years now. Although you seem to be doing well, I can't help but wonder if - well," he took a step closer to her. "If you would come back to the estate. Maud's death was deeply felt, but after you left... The house hasn't been the same since."

The realization of his offer came slowly to her, and her mouth dropped open slightly. "B-but Sir, I'm a lady's maid. By trade, that is."

Anthony felt her question, and his thoughts floated back to Edith. The woman who had almost been lady of his house.

_I would have hoped, at least_. He thought.

"Oh please," He continued, Edith finding a spot somewhere a little further back in his mind for the time being. "I've been looking for a new head housekeeper. You would be my first choice, and since I have no one else to confer with, if you're willing to accept the position, I'd be happy to bring you and your things there at your earliest convenience."

Elisabeth looked quite taken aback, as well as the woman behind her - who was clearly not overly pleased with Anthony for coming in and trying to hire one of her maids.

"Sir Anthony, I …"

"It's alright," He said, glancing over at the woman who had welcomed him in. "You can take your time. I'm staying in London with my sister and brother-in-law, Mr Chetwood. Please, think about it, and call on me at any time. They live at 12 Furlong Road, in Highbury. There are only twelve houses there, you can't miss it." He said with a smile.

"Thank you, Sir Anthony." Elisabeth managed to say, still somewhat stunned by this surprising turn of events. "I will think about this carefully."

"I trust you will. Until I hear from you, I hope you fare well." He nodded, placing his hat back on his head. He nodded at the receptionist awkwardly, and turned to leave.

* * *

Edith's letter went unanswered that day, and the next, and she began to worry that somehow, she had done something, said something at tea the week before to make him give up the friendship entirely. The thought weighed heavily upon her as she paced the library where her father sat, poring over some documents spilled out over his desk. The Earl of Grantham noticed her incessant movement and sighed, watching her for a moment before turning back to his work.

"What is it?" He asked flatly.

Edith stopped in her tracks, turning to him with a slightly open mouth. "I beg your pardon?"

"If you keep at it, the servants will have a hole in the floor to repair shortly. Is something the matter?"

_Only the feeling that I'm losing someone more dear to me than most of my family._

She knew she was probably overreacting. She also knew she wasn't about to tell her father of her romantic woes. If she could even call them that.

"No, just a little restless."

"You should take a walk about." The way he spoke sounded like he was trying to get rid of her, which, she was fairly used to.

"Actually," she began, getting an idea. "Would you mind if I borrowed the car? I was hoping to go for a drive, and if the rain starts again, at least I won't be caught out in it."

Robert raised his eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

"About. Probably through the village and perhaps a little further, if the roads are alright."

He sighed, and looked out the window, as if to make sure there were no treacherous conditions. He then replied: "Very well. Be home for dinner."

"Yes papa." She said, smiling to herself.

Edith moved across the room, this time with purpose. She smiled at her father before leaving, the door closing behind her.

* * *

A half hour later, Edith pulled into the smooth park outside Anthony's estate.

Parking the car just outside the door, Edith inhaled deeply before getting out, and checking her face and hair in the rear-view mirror.

_Just explain that you were in the neighborhood passing by. Restless._

At least the last of that was true.

She walked briskly up to the front door, where she was greeted by Davis - who smiled at her upon her knocking and welcomed her in. What followed, however, was not what she expected.

"Gone? Where to?"

"He had business to attend to in London, as I understand it. He should be back within a week."

"Oh, I see." Edith's heart felt like it dropped a few inches deeper into her chest. "Well," she smiled, although her surprise and sadness were written in her expression. "Thank you. I shall call again when he has returned."

Davis bowed her out, and she walked back to the car, paler than before.

_He left without saying... anything._

What did it mean? Perhaps nothing, she realized. Probably nothing. But perhaps everything. Perhaps her letter had scared him off - granted it had been another invitation and some conversational thanks for being so kind, as per usual - and she couldn't help but stand there and breathe for a moment, before getting back in the car.

_What could have been so important that he -_

She willed herself to stop thinking about it. After all, she wasn't his wife, and she had "agreed" not to desire him any longer. But in that moment, she realized that her brilliant plan was, in a way, backfiring; the plan had been made so that she might improve upon Sir Anthony's opinion again, clear her conscience from whatever it was Mary had said those years before, and to make him see that she was not the young, shallow woman he met before the war - and yet, she found herself far more attached than she had been. More attached to him than she knew.

And the realization of this continued to wash over her like heavy, London rain as she drove back to Downton.


	5. Spring Violets

**A/N:** I realize this chapter is very long, and there isn't a whole lot of romance/actual development. I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MORE. I ship them so hard!

Ahem. As I was saying, there will be more of that in the next chapter, but this one was necessary for the explanation of things, and for the other characters as well.

(None of whom are mine, obviously. Well, except Elisabeth.)

* * *

**Chapter 4 -**_ Spring Violets  
_  
March 1920

Matthew's return to Downton happened the following evening just after supper. The Crawleys were having tea in the drawing room, when Carson announced the heir's arrival.

It meant little to Edith - though she was fond of Matthew, she felt it imprudent to get in the way of his being reunited with Mary again, who stood up quickly and left the room with little ceremony. As much as she hated to admit it, the couple looked incredible both on paper and in person. Mary's elegance and poise only added to Matthew's kindness and ease.

_It even makes her seem a bit nicer_. She thought with some amusement, before resuming her conversation with her grandmother. Violet, who had joined them for afternoon tea and dinner, was talking to her quietly about what had transpired during the week.

"Would you have expected him to tell you, if he were going away?" The Dowager Countess asked, leaning toward Edith.

"Well, considering that we were friends -" Edith began, looking at the floor.

"Friends don't tell friends everything. Heavens, married people don't share every secret."

Edith sighed. Her grandmother was so logical at times. And at times like these, the middle daughter of the Earl of Grantham wasn't sure if it was a burden or a blessing to have that logic thrust upon oneself.

It certainly reminded her that she was being more than a little ridiculous.

"That being said," Lady Violet said, quieter this time. "I'm sure I could get a thing or two out of his valet. The man seems to be completely terrified of me."

Edith chuckled. Davis, the few times she had been to Sir Anthony's estate, had shown her nothing but kindness, but his mannerisms spoke a great deal of shyness and caution. "Are you certain that's not just his way?" She asked, the humor in her voice very plain.

Chuckling, her grandmother raised an eyebrow. "No, my dear. A man that serves in a man's household will always be more high strung when women are present. It upsets the balance." She said dryly, the joke causing Edith to smile.

At that moment, Matthew and Mary entered the drawing room, talking of his travels in London. As the couple passed by Edith, Matthew sent her a look that she couldn't understand - it was a telling look, one that meant he had something to tell her. _Something about Anthony_. She knew. Or, she hoped.

"Welcome back." She said to Matthew, after the initial surprise of that look wore off.

He smiled, nodding politely. "Thank you."

"Had you a successful trip?" Cora asked from her lounge chair on the opposite side of the room.

"Oh yes." Matthew said honestly. "Thankfully it wasn't nearly as complicated as we had all thought."

"Was it about the property agreement?" Robert asked over his novel.

Nodding, Matthew sat down on a chaise and crossed one leg over the other. "Yes. And we were in the right, thank God."

Robert 'hmmm-ed' his agreement and returned to his paper.

"And you had a pleasant journey back? We were so sorry that you missed supper." Cora said, continuing the pleasantries where her husband left off.

"Are you hungry? We should have thought to - I can have Mrs Hughes bring up some sandwiches for you." Mary interjected, looking at her fiance with mild concern.

"Oh, I'm fine actually, thank you." He said to Mary, before turning to her mother. "And yes, the ride was shorter than I remembered." He chuckled, his boyish good looks endearing him even further to his fiancee. "It did feel like the car was running a little hot at times. Must have been driving a little too fast."

"Well, you're here now." Mary said fondly, putting a hand on Matthew's arm.

Edith watched them wistfully. Even though she knew they had their disagreements - with a sister like Mary Crawley, it wasn't hard to imagine that their relationship was tumultuous at times, she still envied the intimacy they showed with one another. The intimacy they were allowed to show.

Her eyes lingered on where Mary's gloved hand had worked its way into the folds of Matthew's suit jacket, which she was brought out of suddenly by her name being called.

"Edith?" She looked up.

It was Matthew. She blushed, and smiled. "Oh, I apologize I -"

"No, don't. Please. I was going to ask if you were well."

"Of course, at least, no worse than usual." Her smile didn't dissipate. Conversation with Matthew had always been pleasant, but his manner had so much improved since the announcement of his engagement. And in all honesty, he was quite fond of her. Always had been, but his attachment to her had grown when he realized what she had done for the soldiers during the war. He knew that she and Mary had their differences, but the middle sister had always been pleasant to him, and at times, they had shared a few moments of real frankness.

"Did you get to any concerts while you were in London?" She asked after a moment.

"Unfortunately not, although I ran into Sir Anthony Strallan just yesterday." Matthew's eyes, along with everyone else's, seemed to shift to Edith, who looked uncomfortably around her. "Oh?" She managed, trying to sound slightly disinterested while her heartbeat began to pick up pace. "Yes." Matthew concurred, and furrowed his brow slightly, as though trying to lessen the impact of what he was about to say. "He seemed well, although a little distracted."

This time it was Lady Violet that piped up. "Distracted?"

"It seemed like he was being waited upon. There was a woman by the door of whatever building we passed, I don't remember which, but he kept glancing at her. We made polite conversation but he quickly excused himself."

Edith's heart dropped. _A woman_. She realized she must have gone a bit pale when her sister raised a dark eyebrow and looked in her direction. And for once, Mary's elegant, questioning look wasn't one of resentment or of challenge.

The middle daughter silently thank her grandmother a moment later by breaking the silence with: "Well one mustn't keep a woman waiting." She said, her tone very sarcastic, and somewhat scathing. She glanced over at Edith, but said nothing. A slight change in her expression let Edith know she was also concerned.

To try and lighten the mood, Edith chuckled. "Well, perhaps it was for the best."

She decided to leave it at that, but she could still feel her heart in her stomach. But she bore it as best she could without saying anything else on the matter.

The conversation passed, and eventually everyone went to bed. Edith however, sat at her vanity for some time. It was not something she did regularly, looking at herself in the mirror - she tended to avoid it whenever her relations were around - but she couldn't help but wonder what he had once seen in her. He had been keen on her, she knew it. And lamented the fact that Mary had ruined everything. And as she sat, the vibrant red of her hair, flowing in perfect finger waves and framing her round face, the rich brown of her almond-shaped eyes, and her flawless skin did nothing to ease the feeling of uncertainty and self-loathing as she compared herself to this mystery woman of whom Matthew had spoken.

For all she knew, the woman could have been his sister, whom she knew lived in London with her husband. But something in the way that Matthew looked at her when he told her made her realize that couldn't be the case.

And so she sat, intermittently casting a glance upward at her reflection in the mirror, and looking down at her long fingers, clasped together on the vanity's surface and knuckles going slightly white with frustration and worry.

_What more can I do without giving myself away?_

She was at a loss for ideas and for words, and hoped that somehow, everything would somehow resolve itself.

But she was never that lucky. She never had been. Nothing was easy.

* * *

Two days later, Anthony was surprised to see the car and chauffeur of Violet Crawley pulling into his park. It wasn't like her to come unannounced, and as he watched Davis welcome her in from the window, he had a bad feeling about what was to come. The Dowager Countess was not a woman to be trifled with, he knew. And someone, as traditional in social values and norms as the Lady Violet, was on a mission.

He sighed.

His life had already been made vastly easier with Elisabeth in the house. The woman he had asked to be his head of housekeeping had already proved invaluable - the staff seemed happy with her, she saw to the finer details of keeping things clean and orderly that the aging Davis usually overlooked. Not that Anthony felt he needed a new valet, but he knew that the older gentleman was beginning to forget the smaller things. Elisabeth made the place bright again, and he realized in part that it was because she reminded him of Maud.

She and his late wife had been very close, the two of them always seen before coming down for breakfast and before dinner, chatting away and always smiling with each other. He had no doubt that they had their moments of intimacy, of commiseration, of things he was never meant to know. That never bothered him - Elisabeth had a way of keeping Maud happy, even when he was in a mood.

Not to mention that she had already begun taking on extra duties - writing letters, correspondence, and honestly, things he would have expected of a nurse. Things that, over the course of two days he had simply overlooked. He was happy to have her, another woman in the house did make a difference, and though it was a dynamic very different to that within the house while Maud was still alive, Elisabeth somehow made it far less drear.

A knock on the door to his sitting-room came as expected, followed by Davis showing the Dowager Countess in.

"Lady Grantham." He said, a somewhat nervous smile spread across his face. "What a lovely surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Ever the gentleman, he motioned for her to sit on the nearest chaise, one that he had positioned to point toward the fireplace for the cold winter months.

Violet gave him a small smile and a nod. "Thank you, Sir Anthony." She said curtly before sitting down, assuming what he had noticed was her most practiced pose - seated upright, angled toward him, with a gloved hand still at the head of her ornate walking stick.

Anthony took a step forward, and looked up at Davis, who was still standing patiently at the door.

"Would you care for some tea?" He asked the older woman before him.

"Yes, thank you." She said, and he smiled. She was so very different from all of the Crawleys - born from a noble family, she carried all of the qualities he normally found insincere and unnecessary - but it always seemed to work in her favour.

"Very well then." He said, looking up at his valet. Davis nodded, a quick bow meant for both of them before turning to leave. "Ah! And," Anthony said, causing the server to stop in his tracks. "Would you have Ms Lyall bring it up? If it's no trouble, of course." He added, a warm smile on his face.

This action did not go unnoticed by Violet, who immediately stiffened at the idea of a female server upstairs.

Anthony walked back around to his own chair, which angled toward Lady Violet.

"My, my, is it a new trend - having female wait staff about during the day?"

_Always to the point_. Anthony thought with some amusement, though he wasn't sure where this conversation was headed.

"No, or at least, not in London."

"Yes, Matthew told us he had crossed your path."

"Ah, indeed! I saw him briefly."

"Very briefly, I hear. He said you were with someone."

Anthony's smile disappeared. The subject of the conversation was becoming more and more apparent, punctuated by the slight raising of Violet's eyebrow and the drawing of her lips into a thin line.

"You're quite right, I had gone to London to -"

It was then the door was knocked upon softly, to be opened by the very woman he was about to name.

She looked up at them, though her face was still angled downward. In her hands was a silver tray, carrying a tall white tea pot, delicate cups, and a small plate of scones.

"Lovely, thank you Ms Lyall." He said, his smile immediately replaced as his attentioned was turned away from his visitor momentarily. The tension in Violet's face began to lessen slightly, as she watched their interaction. Anthony was clearly fond of this woman - otherwise she would not have been asked to serve them.

"Is there anything else, milord?" She said, her voice velvety. She smiled at him, and then briefly at the Dowager Countess, whose eyes widened at the audacity of the action.

"I think that will be all for now." Anthony said warmly, moving to stand up and walk toward the table where she had deposited the tray.

"Very well." She said, and curtsied to Lady Violet before backing away from them and exiting.

After a moment, Anthony turned slowly to his guest, anticipating some sort of reaction from her about the whole exchange.

And he was not wrong.

"Well, she certainly appears to enjoy her position." The dry humor laying heavy into her voice.

Anthony couldn't help but grin. "She was Maud's maid." He said frankly, stepping toward the coffee table that sat next to Lady Violet. This elicited a questioning look, and he chuckled before replying. "A dear girl. I had been looking for her for some time - not only had she been a lady's maid, but head of housekeeping as well. Now, it seems the war has taught her a thing or two about nursing, you see -"

"So she's quite the little helper."

"Indeed. And she does pay very close attention to detail." He noted with no small enthusiasm, reaching over to the tea pot. Normally, he would have had Davis pour the tea, but since her arrival, Elisabeth had once prepared his tea and set everything left-hand facing for his convenience. The simple gesture reminded him that he wasn't helpless, and perhaps not so crippled as he fancied himself to be.

"I see." The Dowager Countess said, watching him pour their tea with certainty - instantly understanding his meaning.

"It was her that I found in London. I had someone looking for her there, and had only just heard when I decided to leave."

Realization dawned momentarily, for a fraction of a second, on Lady Violet's face. As she suspected, Edith had let her heart and mind get the best of her in thinking that she was suddenly being overthrown for another woman. Not that, in her opinion, Edith was doing much to help her in her mission of having the man propose.

_We all need a little help at times_. She thought to herself with a sly smile.

Anthony didn't notice, his blue eyes focused on the task at hand. "Milk and sugar?" He asked, briefly looking up to his guest. He was sure that she had never had tea prepared for her by a host, let alone right in front of her, but with the ability to do so, he began to enjoy the action.

"Oh, milk, if you please. No sugar." She said, looking very perturbed indeed at the thought of a sweetener in her tea.

Finishing, Anthony handed the tea cup and saucer to her delicately, which she acknowledged with a nod of her head.

"I must say Sir Anthony that this is quite the new experience." She said, this time less bitterness in her voice, and more softness than he was used to from a woman as set in her ways as she.

He laughed. "Not wholly unpleasant, I hope. Forgive me for the lack of formality but I've decided to focus less on what I can't do and more on what I can."

This earned him a smile from the older woman. "A very admirable quality. You know, I believe Lady Edith would like to know that you've arrived home from London."

He almost sighed at her pointedness.

To be honest, he hardly knew what to make of the woman at times. She had seemed so keen on their budding relationship before the war, but he knew that she was none too enthusiastic about the idea after he had come back wounded. But now, he knew she was up to something.

"Oh really?" He had hardly had time to think about his situation with Edith, though it didn't follow that she hadn't been in his thoughts. In fact, having another woman in the house reminded him of how pleasant it had been to be married. Married to someone he loved.

_And it's not likely to happen again_. He reminded himself. Just another beautiful thing to remember about his first marriage.

"Well then, if you would be so kind, Lady Grantham." He smiled, nodding. "Do give her my best."

"I shall."

* * *

April 1920

Edith had received and replied to another invitation for a visit from Anthony, but from her spot in the car, she didn't seem to want to move. Her gloved hands gripped the steering wheel, and she bit her lip nervously while trying to seem less childish than she felt.

_Calm down_. She told herself.

_Grand mama said everything was fine_. She had almost wanted to die of embarrassment when Violet told her she had paid Anthony a visit - if only to get to the bottom of the mystery of the London woman. Unfortunately for her, the genuine embarrassment had resulted in her grandmother keeping her silence from then on, refusing to say any more on the subject.

Which, she knew, was simply to make a point.

Yet, sitting in her car on the crisp autumn afternoon, Edith felt less and less confident by the minute that she wasn't going to make a fool of herself the second she stepped into his house.

Finally, drawing in a deep breath, she exited the car and walked up to the front door, where Davis was already waiting.

"Welcome, Lady Edith." He said with a smile and a bow, welcoming her in.

"Thank you." She said as he took her coat, the air cool but finally warm enough not to need an overcoat indoors.

She was led the usual way into Anthony's study. "Sir Anthony is expecting you." Said Davis, opening the door before her and allowing her entry first.

Edith rounded the corner, the sight of Anthony talking with a woman who was standing next to his seated from meeting her dark eyes first. In a split second, she immediately regretted her decision to get out of the car. Her presence had roused both of them, however, and she was met by Anthony's eyes, and those of the beautiful, yet familiar face of the woman beside him.

Her heart felt like it had stopped, and only began beating again once she realized that the woman was wearing blacks, covered by a white apron - a servant.

It took everything she had not to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Lady Edith!" Sir Anthony said enthusiastically, standing up to greet her.

She smiled shyly, and took a few steps further into the room, taking his outstretched hand. Momentarily, she forgot about the server behind him, the touch of his skin was warm, even against her gloved fingers.

"Hello." She said.

_So far, so good._

Edith and her feelings had been at a disconnect all week. Since the initial worry of Sir Anthony being involved with a woman, Edith had come to realize a few things about herself. One, that her plan to have him as her husband had somehow morphed from a need for acceptance from her family, and an escape from her parents' house, into a desire to be close to the man - plain and simple. He knew her better than anyone, and the moment that realization had hit her, she no longer knew how to go about getting her way.

Edith was silently stubborn, but her record in love have been unlucky, and thus her confidence in herself had most definitely suffered.

_Especially where even Anthony prefered Mary over me for a time_. She was positive he cared far less for Mary then, but she still knew the bitter sting of losing something, someone, lost. She wasn't prepared for the possibility of that happening again.

"Lady Edith, this is Ms Lyall, my new head of housekeeping." He said, immediately introducing the woman behind him, the fact that he introduced her told Edith that she was very important to him. Perhaps this had been the woman Matthew had spoken of.

_Wouldn't that be lovely for a change._

The middle daughter of the Earl of Grantham knew why there was something so familiar about the maid's face the moment she turned to face the door. She bore great resemblance to Sybil, though her hair was kept in proper maid's fashion and her lips were not quite so shapely.

"It is an honor, Lady Edith." She said, her voice smooth and calming. She curtsied, but looked Edith square in the face without any visible reservations.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms Lyall." She could only reply in kind, though she was still struck by her sister's doppelganger of considerably lesser social rank.

"Sir Anthony has told me wonderful things about you." The maid said again, this time coming as quite a shock to Edith. And apparently, to the aforementioned host as well - a very rare moment of speechless embarrassment on his part causing him to look away from Edith.

_Wonderful things?_ Edith asked herself, looking to Anthony. _What could he possibly have said?_

She certainly didn't feel wonderful. Closer to dreadful, in fact, being the bag of nerves she was.

Regardless, the brave young woman smiled and bowed her head. She chuckled. "I'm sure Sir Anthony has been too kind."

"Not at all." Was Elisabeth's reply, a slight smile turning the corners of her mouth upward. There was something a tad mischievous in her eyes then, that Edith noticed and wondered whether she should be wary or not of her old friend's head of housekeeping.

In the meantime, Anthony had composed himself and taken a step toward his guest. "Lady Edith, would you care for some tea?"

His usual question. If he had a good arm, he would have asked if she would have liked to go for a drive or something a little less monotonous. He felt like he was becoming a broken phonograph at times, the way he always suggested the same activity.

This time, it was Edith's turn to surprise him.

"Well actually, I was hoping you'd come for a walk with me. I know it's still early in the year, but the weather is finally getting warm." She smiled, and looked to the window, sun shining and looking altogether quite pleasant casting a bright glow over the newly budding grass.

Anthony grinned. "What a splendid idea." He immediately felt lighter, uplifted. Who needs tea, anyhow? He thought to himself with amusement as he observed Edith's face, still gazing out over his property.

It was moments like this that he thanked whatever higher power had graced him with a good memory. Times when memory would allow him to look on moments like this often, and he could remember how lovely she looked, standing there in his sitting room, comfortable, a slight smile on her pink lips.

He almost sighed, but was interrupted by Elisabeth. "Shall I find your overcoat, Lady Edith?"

Her own reverie broken, Edith looked to the maid. "Please. In hindsight I should have kept it, to save you all from the trouble."

Her polite thoughtfulness was something that had drawn Anthony to her in the first place - a fact she was yet unaware of.

"Very well. Davis will have your coat ready, milord." Elisabeth said, before curtseying and excusing herself.

The moment she had gone, Sir Anthony Strallan looked at her guest with a very strange look - mirroring her own, that suddenly seemed hurt and confused.

"Lady Edith, what -"

"I'm alright." She said a little too quickly.

He looked at her more tenderly than he meant to, and offered his left hand. She took it, fingers pressing into his in thanks for the comfort. It seemed that for a brief moment, both of them had forgotten their situation.

It was Anthony who realized first. Let go of her hand._ It was your idea not to take up with her again_. He reminded himself, but his hand wouldn't oblige.

Their silence wasn't uncomfortable, as had always been the case with them. But all too soon, Edith withdrew her hand, the expression on her face unchanged.

"Shall we, then?" He asked, trying to engage her mind elsewhere. He didn't know what she was thinking, but he knew he wanted that sorrowful expression gone. "I believe you're quite right, it's a lovely day for a walk."

Ten minutes later, they walked around the rear of the house to find a small path that led through the large, grassy field that opened onto what had been Sir Anthony's first farming property. Edith had only seen this part of the estate through windows when she was first shown around years before.

Edith looked up at her silent company, smiling to herself a little wistfully.

"Your new housemaid seems quite vivacious." She said after a moment, her eyes then turning back to the newly green grass stretching out before them.

Anthony looked sidelong at her, catching what he took to be a hint of sarcasm and immediately felt bad for not having explained himself before. He could hardly do so with Elisabeth in the room, but he took the opportunity as readily as she gave it. "Elisabeth was -"

Edith's eyes widened at his use of her first time. Intimate indeed.

"My apologies." Anthony said hastily, catching wind of her expression. "Ms Lyall, you have to understand, was the lady's maid of my late wife. She left after Maud died, you see, it was hard on her, you see - they were very close." He paused both in speech and in step, his younger companion stopping with him. "She was a wonderful housekeeper and since then I hadn't hired anyone on in case she had wished to return. But when she didn't, I began looking for her. And, at length, last week, I heard the first news of her since Maud's death. She was working in London, and... well, I believe you can augur the rest."

Suddenly, Edith felt like a weight had been lifted. She suddenly understood what Lady Violet had meant - everything _was_ fine for her. At least, there was nothing to suggest she was in any danger of losing what she had of him. And suddenly, that realization was all too much.

_Heavens... I thought I had lost him, I -_

The tears that threatened her eyes were choked back, and Edith took a brave step forward - so that Sir Anthony Strallan wouldn't see her face. But even the polite, somewhat clueless elderly man was not to be unaware of a woman in distress. Walking up behind her, he stopped when he realized that he was almost touching her back with his chest. He did however, reach into his breastpocket and fish out a clean, pressed handkerchief.

"Edith." He said softly, the title dropping without his realizing.

She turned so reluctantly, he almost believed she wasn't going to. But when she looked up at him, a few, hot tears still sitting on her eyelids, lower lip straight and trying not to quiver, he felt his heart skip.

_She's crying because of me. _He realized with mild shock. _Edith is crying for me._

The thought that she still loved him - even felt anything that resembled their relationship before the war, hadn't really occurred to him. He had always assumed that when he had cut everything off, her reaching out to him was purely an act of friendship. After all, she had said it was only that.

But as he stood there, looking at the brave young woman, defying all social norms and courtesies, holding back tears as though she had something to prove. And all he could do, was offer her a handkerchief.

_I promised myself. I will not suffer these delusions that she may still feel something for me._

Edith turned away from him after accepting the small square of fabric, grateful for it, and mortified at herself for having allowed him to see her tears. _He didn't know what they were for._She rationalized, belittling Anthony, assuming he was clueless - as ever - of her feelings. She wanted to scream, to turn around and throw herself into his arms. Arm. That didn't matter. His age didn't matter. Any excuse he had for them not to be together - it didn't matter.

She loved him.

And he felt the same way, standing there, watching her shoulders hunched as she wiped away her tears. Facing away from him, he knew she wouldn't press the subject further if he didn't. And he couldn't take the sight of her tears any longer.

Minutes later, she turned, tears gone, with a small smile on her lips. He knew it was practiced, and that it was one her family saw often. He said nothing, but walked around her, and held out his left arm. An invitation.

"Shall we continue? The property gets nicer from here, I assure you."

His feeble attempt at a joke elicited the smallest trace of a real smile. She glanced at him arm, and sighed.

Wrapping her own around it, her hand resting gently on the thick fabric of his forearm, they began walking together again in silence.

_There is nothing to be said. _They thought simultaneously.

Edith, for the assumption that Anthony truly, finally, felt no more romance for her - otherwise, he surely would have put her out of her misery and _done_something about it.

And Anthony, because he knew that he had been wrong - so wrong, for so long. Edith was stronger, more wonderful than even he knew. And he wanted to know her. He wanted her beside him always, and in that realization that he too, loved her so completely, he felt it even more imperative that he learn to let her go.

_She's as lovely as the spring, and all I would do, is cast a bleak cold upon her. If I were to keep her close. _


	6. Forgiveness

**A/N: **So you know I'm stressed out when I update a story twice in the same week. Having just finished my final performance exams for school, and attempting to move out of province in ten days (and no, nothing is packed), is making me a little loopy. Writing is all I can do to keep my head on, apparently.

Anyhow, the usual - at the exception of Elisabeth, none of these characters belong to me, etc, etc.

Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 5 - _Forgiveness_

The two weeks that had passed made awkward acquaintances of both of them.

Edith had said nothing of her visit to Sir Anthony Strallan to her family, save for a few choice details to her questioning grandmother. Lady Violet Crawley had said only that she was being slightly foolish, and left it at that.

_She said we were both fools. And perhaps she's right.  
_

Edith sighed and got up from the dark chair in the Downton library, taking a look outside. The weather was fine, and she decided in that moment to be out in it. To clear her head, to fill it with anything but thoughts of the older gentleman who had ceased all contact after their last meeting. She summoned Carson, and had him alert the servants to saddle her horse.

If truth be told, Edith felt like such a fool that she didn't want to be the one to make the first contact again. _Who could blame me? It worked so well last time._She thought bitterly, walking toward the front entrance. The awful truth was that she still thought about him so often that when she realized how long she had been replaying their past conversations, and thinking up potential scenarios in which he would miraculously realize how silly they'd both been, she felt guilty for being so preoccupied with him in the first place. For all she knew, he never thought of her again.

At that moment, she almost ran into Mary, who was coming out of the sitting room with her head down.

Her head snapped up, and they backed away from each other.

Edith's expression was unreadable, as ever, when Mary raised an eyebrow and asked: "What is it?"

"Nothing. I'm going out for a ride."

Mary looked at her younger sister with scrutiny. The two of them had certainly had their differences, but even she had to admit that the last year had doled them out a fair bit more maturity, and they were no longer constantly at each other's throats. Still, it drove the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham practically batty when Edith dismissed her questions.

"That's not what I meant."

Edith looked mildly puzzled.

"What, are you asking about my feelings now?"

There was the spite coming back.

Matthew had brought a calm over the two of them, Mary's happiness almost ensuring pleasant conversation without animosity. But nothing stays perfect for long - and they both knew it. Still, their stubbornness prevented either from walking away.

"Well clearly you've not been in good spirits for some time. I was merely wondering why you felt entitled to casting a gloom."

Edith frowned. "It's none of your concern, really." And she remembered what had happened the last time she was open about something that made her happy. Mary ruined it. Mary and her spite.

She had been spiteful too, and she knew it. And, in truth, she did feel guilty about what she had done in the hopes of damaging Mary's chances for marriage as well. But it didn't keep away the memory of the heartbreak she experienced on the fateful day the war was announced.

Mary heaved a deep sigh, rolling her eyes. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Edith, just tell me. What's the matter?"

The tone of genuine concern that lay underneath the exasperation surprised them both - but Edith pretended not to hear it.

"Nothing is the matter!"

Mary stared at her, dark eyes penetrating. A challenge.

Edith fell for it.

"Well, if we're being perfectly honest, I suppose you're the reason for all this." The venom in her voice was unmistakable.

This caused a reaction on Mary's behalf. "Me?" She thought for a moment and then her mouth dropped open slightly. "Oh, Edith. You're not still on about the garden party, are you?"

"It was years ago, I know." Edith was now beginning to grow angry, feeling the years of bottled up bitterness and hurt beginning boil her blood. "But you ruined my - well, you know what you did."

"As if what you did deserved a punishment less fitting." Mary quipped, bringing up the scandal with Pamuk as quickly as she could - clearly the eldest sister had kept the issue close to her own heart.

Edith looked away, her face flush. "You would have done it, if you were me." She said quietly, and spoke more of self-loathing than anger. Mary caught the change in her tone and took a step forward, staring straight at her younger sister with a look of utter disbelief in her eyes.

"I can't claim I haven't been petty, but Edith, what were you thinking? How could you not have known it would have reflected badly on all of us?"

"_Us_? Us?" She laughed, sarcasm ruling her tone. "Since when have you ever been willing to associate yourself with me after the age of eleven? Your beauty and charm sets you apart, until people get to know you. I on the other hand, well, no one would ever so much as look at me when you were about. But Sir Anthony, he -"

"He looked at you."

"He did more than that!" Edith was beginning to feel herself on the verge of tears. But she wouldn't cry. Not in front of Mary, the cold, stony sister that had always had the upper hand. Crying would be like admitting defeat.

Mary watched her sister with realization. How long had it been since then? Six years? All this time, and Edith still carried a torch for the older gentleman who had come back with his honor in exchange for a useless arm. She remembered the nights of soirees and gatherings where she carelessly ignored Matthew for the older, more "promising" gentleman, all the while knowing that Edith's interest in him came from a more genuine place than her own. And when it came time for the garden party, Mary knew exactly what to do to ruin all of Edith's chances. Possibly, probably forever.

And that realization softened her expression, and she took the barrage of anger-driven chatter that Edith was now spouting at her with a clenched jaw. Mary looked down.

When Edith finally took a breath, exhausted, she frowned, feeling the tears now stinging her eyes.

_I cry all too often over this man_. She thought with bitter amusement.

Silence.

And then Mary sighed. "Edith..." She said slowly.

Edith looked up at her, confusion marked on her pale face.

"I'm..." She struggled with the words, trying to look as indifferent as possible. "I'm sorry for that."

The redhead could hardly believe what she was hearing. _An apology? From Lady Mary Crawley?_Had Hell frozen over? Was the world ending? It must have been. She had never heard those words in her life. Especially not from her high-handed, beautiful, older sibling.

She was speechless.

"It was years ago now. I'd like to think we're past all of that, but clearly we both had things to blame each other for."

Edith dropped her head, her eyes looking at the dark carpet under Mary's feet. Then, lifting her eyes again, she felt the tears disappearing as quickly as they had come.

"You'll never understand what it's been like, Mary. Living with you." _Being related to you_. She added mentally. "And I never understood why we were always at loggerheads, when darling Sybil never argued with either of us."

"Because we're the stubborn ones, no doubt." Mary said dryly, adding a slight smile that lessened the effect.

Edith smirked. "What I'm trying to say, is that..." She never, _ever_expected to be apologizing for the scandal she had caused. But if there was ever a time, it was that very moment. "I apologize for the letter. I was bitter, hurt. And so tired of being left behind. Not that it's sufficient reason to -"

"It's alright."

Mary interrupted. Her smile had turned genuine. Small, but as honest a smile as Edith had ever seen from her elder sister.

"Everyone of consequence knows." She continued. "And they've either forgiven me, or it wasn't worth my time to care." She meant of course, that she was willing to deal with whatever Richard had to deal, with Matthew's acceptance of the facts, she had no qualms with the information being public. It wasn't always that way, but the war had changed her. Love had changed her.

"Shall we call a truce?" Edith suggested, only half joking.

"Yes." Mary said, her dark eyebrows raising. "I think it's probably best."

And for a moment, they shared a memory of them as girls, declaring the same truce on a similarly sunny summer afternoon. A handshake exchanged between them - very formal, as was only natural for two people making a deal - and curt nods of the head. Edith smiled first at the memory, but it was Mary who spoke first.

"Oh, and by the way, the Russells are having a ball. I meant to tell you earlier, Papa told me to inform you. It's on Thursday next."

"The Russells? But I thought they left Haxby."

"Well of course they have." Immediately, the tone of exasperation made its way back into the elder Crawley daughter's voice. But for once, Edith didn't mind. "They're living in London now. In Belgrave Square. Apparently it has a ballroom. Anyhow, I just thought you should know."

She turned to leave, not wanting to overstay and ruin their newfound friendliness.

"Oh, and you might tell Sir Anthony about it as well. I hear the Russells are trying to gain old contacts again, and the ball would be a good way to introduce them to some." Leaving it at that, Mary headed off in the opposite direction, Edith still firmly stood where she was on the rich carpet.

_Forgiveness_. She hadn't realized she had wanted it, and_ needed_it so badly. But it felt good. And she felt a little less gloomy than before.

_Perhaps I will invite Sir Anthony_. She thought to herself, buttoning up her riding jacket and meeting one of the stable workers in front of the house. As she settled herself in the saddle, she looked in the direction of the Strallan estate. _If I go there now, I can make it back before dinner._ It was as though some of her previous hope had been restored - oddly enough, all thanks to Mary.

* * *

"I'm terribly sorry about all of this."

Sir Anthony Strallan paced his study, his left hand in his pocket, the other out of its sling and hanging loose by his side.

His newest maid, Elisabeth Lyall sat patiently at a desk, looking up at him with a tenderness that he was very thankful for. She was ever so patient with him.

A piece of paper lay out in front of her, along with a fountain pen. Around the desk there were other sheets of said paper, the beginnings of letters written in an elegant hand, but none stretching past the first couple lines.

"It's alright, you know." Elisabeth said, watching him as he continued to pace.

"It's been two weeks and I've said nothing."

"And you think she's troubled by your lack of correspondence?"

"Well it's not very polite of me to have a friend over, and then cease all contact. She was good enough to come and visit, after all."

The maid sighed, and stood up. Clasping her hands in front of her apron, she took a step toward him. "Milord..." She said, a soft tone of cautioning in her voice. As thankful as she was for her change of employment, and as much as she adored working for the older gentleman, she knew he could be more than a bit obtuse when it came to women. After all, she had seen his relationship with Maud grow, but in the beginning, it was awkward as anything. Sir Anthony had been fifteen years younger, and Elisabeth had been very young indeed to be in the service of a woman like Lady Maud, but even she recognized the difficulties he had those first couple of years, learning how to be with a woman, his wife, learning how to be a good husband and lover. And learning how to deal with Maud when she was in a mood - which, even she had to admit, happened fairly often.

Anthony always used to say Maud was funny in her own way, and that she was, but Anthony too, had his fair share of funny moments. His inability to be forward with women he clearly loved was one of them.

"I don't think a letter will do you much good at this point." She said, now standing by the window and noticing something of interest outside.

Her employer turned, surprised by her fraughtness. "Ms Lyall, I -"

"With all due respect, of course." She added, realizing how he had taken it. "But I think you'll find yourself seeing Lady Edith before you have the time to begin another letter."

Anthony's blue eyes widened, taking her meaning instantly and headed himself toward the window.

"Heavens..." He said, and without another word, exited the room, Elisabeth smiling and walking quickly after him.

A minute later, Anthony was standing in the front hall of his estate, looking at a very fine Edith Crawley. Her bright hair framing her face in the waves that were all the new fashion in London - he thought it looked delightful on her. Much more so than on her sister, even. Her clothing was simple, dark, and her coat was cut shorter than most - she had come on horseback, after all.

"Sir Anthony." She began, brown eyes looking straight up into his. "I'm so sorry for dropping in unannounced."

"That's quite alright." He replied, a genuine smile on his tired face. "As charming a surprise as ever."

She smiled, and the blush that spread thinly across her cheeks stirred him in some way. It was so slight, but the colour made his heart skip a beat.

"I won't keep you, but I wanted to let you know that the Russell family - the very ones who used to live at Haxby - is having a ball in London."

"In Belgrave Square?"

"Yes, have you been invited already?"

He nodded. "Yes, an invitation came last week by post. Though I confess, I hadn't thought of attending - having never met them. Though I know what tragedy struck them with the war."

Edith bowed her head. "Yes, Billy's death took quite a toll on them. But, I think they're finally starting to liven up to things again. And I thought it would be nice to go." It wasn't a direct invitation, as he had already been asked by the hosts.

"Honestly, Lady Edith, I haven't danced since the war."

Edith caught the sad tone in his voice. His arm. "Oh please, don't let it stop you from going, if that's what you want. I'm sure they would be happy to meet you." _Not to mention how happy it would make me_. She thought.

"I see." He said, pausing. Did she want him to go? He didn't know how he'd manage to dance with his injury in mind, nor how well he remembered how to. He hadn't been to a ball of any kind in six years, let alone been at one where he was not acquainted with the hosts.

"Please think about it." She said, a nervous smile on her lips.

"I will." He said honestly, the idea seeming less daunting if she would be there to help him through the awkwardness of it all.

"I'll be on my way then." Edith said after a moment of silence.

"Oh no, you don't have to leave just yet." The older gentleman realized that his thought had been said aloud before Edith had time to react. He gulped. He had nothing to follow through with. It was past tea time and the only thing on his to-do list was reply to the message from the Russells.

Edith chuckled, and nodded her head. "I'm afraid I must. You see, I've promised Papa I would be back for dinner."

_Though I would very much like to stay._

Anthony couldn't help but be a little relieved - she deflected his admonition so gracefully without adding further embarrassment.

"Ah? Well, if you must. But please, let me walk you to your horse." He smiled warmly. "I'll admit I was surprised you came on horseback. There is still a chill in the air."

"I'm not cold." She said as they began walking for the door, side by side. "I very much like the outdoors. Downton often feels colder than the air outside, though I suspect that also comes from what's left of the war." She said the last a little hesitantly, wondering if he would understand her.

_What can she mean_? He thought, always remembering Downton to be a warm and inviting sort of place.

"My apologies, I don't think I understand you rightly." He said, looking down at her.

She smiled, and glanced back up at him. "I shouldn't have said it like that. You're not the person to saddle with my issues."

_If not him, then who_? She chided herself. He wasn't her husband, but he was the closest she had ever come to having a best friend - and wasn't that kind of honesty something you trusted only the best with?

"Lady Edith, you can tell me anything you like. If it's something you wish to talk about."

She smiled to herself, and felt her heart flutter. _There are so many things I'd like to tell you_. But she couldn't. Not now. Still, it was hard to keep her restlessness a secret from someone she loved so dearly.

"It's just that..." She paused. There had been a few times, like this, where they had exchanged brief moments of deep trust and a sharing of secrets. And it was such moments that reminded her how compatible they were, sending a pang of regret through her.

"It was just that, during the war, I had a purpose. My life had some sort of meaning. When the soldiers were at Downton, I helped them to write letters, read, anything they needed that wasn't medical, I -" She paused again, looking at the ground below her feet. "Anyway, now I feel as though my life lacks that purpose. And the truth of the matter is," She looked up at him squarely, her eyes penetrating his. "I'm so very bored with life at Downton."

His expression softened as she stared into him. And in a way, he understood. The war had been cruel to everyone, on both sides. He had seen many a man, decades his junior, being carried off on stretchers, missing limbs and bigger body parts. Those who weren't lucky enough to die on the battlefield died miserable, lonely, in unfamiliar hospitals. He had been relatively lucky - and arm was all it had cost him to return home safely. And yet, he knew Edith's troubles. He knew them because he felt them too.

"I think I understand." He said quietly after a moment, looking up as they reached her horse. The stable boy who had been keeping the horse bowed himself out of their conversation, leaving them alone again.

Edith petted the tall horse's neck, and fingering the reins, she looked back up to Anthony. Her expression read a mixture of emotions - pain, sorrow, but also compassion. How could she have forgotten? Of course he would understand. He, better than most.

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened, had the war not been declared that day?" Edith mused out loud all of a sudden. She was sure the question had been on everyone's mind at some point since then, but she realized shortly thereafter at _who_it was she had directed the question.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them then, and Edith felt her absence was now imperative, if she was to see him at the ball the following Thursday.

She stepped up into the stirrup, and tried to right herself on top of her horse. The small step ladder that made her job easier then toppled over, just as her her weight shifted onto her toes. With an unladylike yelp, Edith felt herself falling. She clasped her hand onto the saddlehorn, trying to steady herself, but it wasn't enough.

Without thinking, Sir Anthony moved in front of her, raising his left arm to catch her at the waist. She latched onto his arm, and felt herself finally able to pull herself back up on the horse.

Her heart was beating fast, but that was nothing compared to the surprise of noting that his hand had not left her side, despite the fact that she was now stable in her seat. Then she noticed that her hand was still holding on to said arm, her fingers wrapped around the grey fabric. She looked down at him curiously, and for a moment neither of them moved.

Simultaneously, they let go of one another. Anthony's arm dropped back to his side, his hand unconsciously flexing at the absence of her warmth.

"Are you alright?" He asked finally.

She smiled. "Thanks to you." _Do you know what you've done, Anthony?_She thought desperately, but not without amusement. She felt very strongly at that moment that he was no more crippled than the next person.

He returned her smile and chuckled. "It was only luck. I didn't know what I could have done, you see. But I -"

"You did what was needed. And I thank you for it. So don't you dare belittle that fact." She ordered kindly.

Anthony sighed. _You make me forget my failings_. That's what he wanted to say. But instead, he said nothing as she took hold of the reins and looked at the road ahead of her.

"I'll see you a week from Thursday?" She asked, looking down at him.

He shook his head. "You may very well do." He replied, a cheerful undertone in his voice.

Lady Edith Crawley smiled broadly at him, and gently spurred her horse on. "I'll look forward to it."

And, as an afterthought, he said to her as the horse turned. "Lady Edith, do you know what would have happened if the war had not?"

She smiled when she looked back at him. "I like to think so."

"How is it you know so much?" He said somewhat teasingly.

"Because," she slowed the horse for a moment longer. "There are moments in time, when things become incredibly clear. When all doubt is gone, and there is only one thing to know. And that one thing, is tied up in the moment."

He didn't quite understand her, but the optimism in her eyes was unmistakable. It was enchanting. "And what of these moments? Are they a regular occurrence?"

"No." She said finally, her smile turning a bit sly, but retaining its sweetness. "But when you experience one, do let me know."

And with that, she let the horse walk her off down the gravel driveway, back to Downton, away from him.

And as Sir Anthony Strallan stood outside, his hand still feeling queer from its earlier adventure, he began to realize her meaning.

_Did she mean to say that she felt one just now?_ He wondered, watching after her as the horse finally trotted out of sight. The look on her face spoke of a different Edith, one more determined, one more confident than before. The mischief in her eyes didn't go unnoticed, but until he replayed the memory in his head one more time, he hadn't understood its place in the conversation.

_Dearest Edith..._

Did she mean to tell him that truly, his arm, his age, none of it mattered to her?

Did she mean for him to hope?


	7. Moments In Time

**A/N : **I AM DONE MY COMMISSIONS! Woo! Thank goodness. Now I can write more fanfics. *is shot* Anyhow, I wanted to thank all of you for your kind reviews - this story is much longer than I ever wanted it to be, and yet it's my first published fiction. I'm honored that people seem to be enjoying it.

Also, I wanted to mention that from various sources, I've found out that Downton (the village) is in Yorkshire county. This puts it at about a 3 hour drive out of London, hence the reason for the long drive before the ball. 3 hours is a long time to spend in a car with someone whose bones you want to jump - just saying.

And, as usual: The characters and ideas behind Downton Abbey are not mine, save Elisabeth the housekeeper.

* * *

Chapter 6 - _Moments in Time_

The next week passed in a flurry.

Mary and Matthew finally set their wedding date, and it seemed that both upstairs and downstairs there was never a moment's rest for all the talking of duties and plans, getting dresses made and shoes fitted. The Crawleys were all quite pleased with the announcement - and as Lady Violet put it one evening, "You'll never be disappointed with a July wedding... if nothing else works out, at the very least you can depend upon a good summer rain." Her sarcasm was, as always, well-received, and the hustle and bustle continued.

Even Edith, who was normally so reluctant to involve herself in her sister's affairs, ended up lending a hand. In truth, there wasn't much for her to do, but give Mary support when she needed it - in the form of clearing a room of people when she needed alone time. The exchange between them a week before had all but changed the dynamic between them. Despite their frequent spats, it seemed like both of them were a little more willing to be kind when it was needed.

Still, Edith couldn't help but keep an eye on the calendar as the days passed. Thursday had finally come upon them and for a day, Downton seemed a little more at ease. The couples in the house were already prepared and waiting by the time Edith came down. Her hair was done in finger waves, as was the norm, and from her ears dangled two pearls that matched her necklace, and the pearl-color of her evening gloves. A simple but elegant dark blue dress fell from her in a relaxed fit, cinched by another panel of fabric that covered the front, and opening into a square neckline with two thick straps.

Mary watched her descend, and there was the slightest hint of a smile before she turned back to the rest of their party.

"Robert dear, the other car hasn't arrived yet." Cora said, looking to her husband with mild annoyance clearly visible on her face.

The Earl of Grantham sighed, and took a walk out to where Carson stood in the main hall.

"Carson, has there been any word from Sir Anthony? Were you certain he was clear about the time?"

"Yes milord. I spoke to his valet not an hour ago on the phone."

"Please let us know as soon as he arrives." Robert said with a small nod, walking back into the room.

"What other car, papa?" Edith piped up once her father had left the room. The last time she checked, her grandmother was not to attend the ball due to a distaste for long rides in vehicles of any kind. In events such as this, the Lady Dowager Countess would have her driver take them to London.

It was her mother who answered, but not with an answer she expected. "Well, we heard that your friend Sir Anthony was going, and so we asked him if he wouldn't mind driving you."

Edith paled, her heart taking up all the blood it could by beating faster and faster with each elapsing second. He hadn't told her he was going. And what was more, she would be riding to London with him. "And we couldn't have gone all together?" She asked nervously.

"Well of course not, Edith dear. Mary and Matthew will be going in your grandmother's car. It would have been uncomfortable with three, and Sir Anthony said he didn't mind."

Before Edith could say anything, her father re-entered the room, his lips a thin line.

Cora put a hand on his arm, and smiled.

"Don't be impatient. We get there when we get there." She said, and it seemed to appease him.

Almost as if on cue, a minute later, Carson's footfalls were heard on the thick carpet outside the sitting room before they saw him enter. "Milord. All vehicles are arrived and ready."

"Wonderful." Robert replied quickly, looking about at the rest of them. Collectively, they stood.

Edith inhaled deeply, and walked into the hallway. O'Brien was tending to her mother, fastening her jacket while she and Mary were passed their jackets by Molseley and Thomas - who had finally regained a temporary posting as a server while poor Bates was still in prison.

As soon as the party were ready, they all set out of the estate; Edith immediately making for the Rolls-Royce she knew so well, she had to force an inhalation as she nodded to her parents before they entered their own vehicle.

_It will be just like old times._She told herself, feeling slightly better, but unable to shake the feeling of light, fluttering butterflies in her chest.

The driver stepped in front of her, opening the passenger door and pulling out of the way. He bowed his head as she smiled at him.

"Good evening, Lady Edith." Came Sir Anthony's voice from inside the car. Stepping up and ducking in, she found herself seated next to him, and looking into a smiling, open face.

"Good evening." She replied, mirroring his smile.

_She's beautiful_. Antony couldn't help the thought that ran through his mind as the young woman sat beside him. He had always thought that - perhaps not immediately, as the stunning Mary would have distracted almost anyone - but moreso now than ever.

_But don't tell her._

He knew what he had said those months ago. That _she_ had to be the one to give up on him. Let him go. And he thought he would be happy, watching her come into her own and fall in love with the changing world around her._ Part of me will always wonder what had happened._..

If they had been married before the war.

"What is it?"

Edith's voice brought him back to the moment, and he realized that he had been staring. Her tone was mildly confused, but there was a slight chuckle in her voice as well.

Rather awkwardly, he tried to shrug it off. "Oh, it's nothing."

The slight turning down of her lips made him realize she wasn't buying it._ She's too clever for me_. He thought with a smile, the effect of which was that Edith's frown disappeared and was replaced by something between curiosity and bashfulness.

"Really, Sir Anthony, if you're not going to be honest with me before we leave Downton, this is going to be quite a long drive indeed." She joked, realizing that conditions weren't ideal in the his driver was still present - separated from them by a sliding glass panel, but present nonetheless.

The older gentleman smirked, as the car began rolling on behind the Downton vehicles.

"I was just thinking..." He paused, some part of him knowing that the conversation would turn more flirtatious than he intended as soon as he spoke. But it was another part of him that was beginning not to mind. _We agreed. We agreed she would give up. And so far, she's kept her end of the bargain_. He told himself, and realized he had trusted her with that. He trusted that she would keep her word.

Edith seemed to be waiting patiently when he finally spoke.

"You look as beautiful as ever." He said, a sudden frankness in his voice that surprised even him. It wasn't flippant, but it came easier than he thought it would - far more honestly.

Lady Edith Crawley, having never heard the phrase uttered in her direction smiled, and feared she wouldn't stop.

_Say something. Anything._

But she didn't know what to say.

Moments later, she finally uttered a thanks and glanced at him sidelong.

He watched her tenderly, with a soft smile on his lips. Which she noted, and the focus of her vision became his smile - his lips - for a moment. She flushed further upon realizing where her mind had gone in that moment, and quickly focused her eyes on the road ahead of them.

"I'm ever so glad you decided to come." She said finally, calm and collected.

He chuckled. "In all honesty, without your encouragement it was unlike I would have chosen to come."

Edith smiled, a sense of pride welling up in her heart. "Well, I just thought it might be nice. Balls are so few and far between, these days."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, it seems that most people dance in bars. I saw it when I was in London."

Edith couldn't help but be fascinated by the idea of dancing in a more public setting than one's home, or in a dance hall. It all seemed so unreal to her. "You went dancing in London?" She asked.

The older gentleman laughed. "Oh no. It was merely something Elisabeth," he paused. "That is, something Ms Lyall told me on our journey back from London."

Edith nodded, feeling slightly jealous of the familiarity and ease of which Sir Anthony spoke of his head of housekeeping. But she admired that he had gone to all the trouble to find her, given that she was truly a good housekeeper, and had been a comfort when his wife was alive. "You don't need to correct yourself, you know." She said, remarking on how frequently he seemed to fumble the appropriate title for the young woman. "About her name. Call her what you like."

"Lady Edith, you have to understand, I-"

"You care for her a great deal. And whether it's because of her relationship with Lady Strallan or not, don't feel like you need to act on ceremony with me."

_Heavens. Will he take that as flirtation or will he think badly of me_? Edith immediately regretted her choice of words, realizing that Lady Violet Crawley would have been scandalized, knowing what her granddaughter's mind was doing at that moment.

Luckily for her, the polite older gentleman took it only as kindness, which he had grown accustomed to from the middle daughter of the Earl of Grantham.

"You're too kind, you know that?" He said, less of a question than a simple statement.

"Oh no," She countered. "Only as kind as you deserve."

This elicited a chuckle from Anthony, who then shifted to the left a bit further, to give her more space. Edith immediately wished he hadn't.

_But there will be time for that later_. She thought to herself, reminded her heart to be patient.

"Sir Anthony," She began, taking note of the fact that he was once again wearing the sling that kept his arm out of the way. "Does it hurt?"

He looked at her with mild confusion before he clued in, and looked down at his own arm.

"Oh, no, not at all."

"Don't... don't answer, if you shouldn't wish to, but is there a greater purpose for the sling?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Not to my knowledge. Mostly it keeps the wretched thing from getting in the way."

She immediately felt guilty for asking, but she had to know.

"I apologize for my curiosity, I just..."

If it wasn't needed, it could be removed_. And dancing with him will be a tad simpler_. She had the evening all planned out in her mind. Whether or not things transpired according to said plans would remain to be seen - it always did, but for the moment, she concentrated on quieting her heart and making pleasant conversation, to have the drive go by as quickly as possible.

* * *

The Crawleys were delighted with the new residence of the Russell's. Though it was not so grand as Haxby, the gaudiness and general air of stodginess had been replaced by warm lighting and beautiful art.

The apartment in Belgrave square was the largest in the area, three floors with a very expansive ballroom that opened into a sitting room where many of the guests were mingling, glasses of wine in hand. A small orchestra sat there was well, leaving the clean, brightly decorated ballroom free for dancing.

The night, when their party arrived, was still young.

They congregated by the doors and entered all together, after a few pleasantries were exchanged between Robert, Cora and Sir Anthony.

Servants came and took their jackets, and Edith noted with no small delight how Anthony's gaze lingered on her as her coat was removed. The blue of her dress stood out marvelously against her hair, making both seem brighter, but especially under the warm lighting of the room.

Many guests had already begun dancing, but the party decided to head into the sitting room first.

Sir Anthony excused himself along with Lord Grantham, in order to greet the hosts and give their thanks.

The rest of them mingled for some time, before Matthew asked Mary to dance, and Edith and Cora were left alone.

"How was the ride over?" Her mother asked her none too subtly.

"Very enjoyable." Was Edith's only reply.

They had talked about everything from the new styles of jazz music to the political unrest in Ireland. It seemed that they were both great believers in the changes that were coming after the war.

"Edith, dear, your grandmother has me a bit worried. She says you're really serious about Sir Anthony again."

Edith almost rolled her eyes. "Heavens, why would that worry you?"

"So it's true?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't be. He was keen on me before the war."

"But his injury makes it... Edith, you must realize that there is a large age gap between you." This caused Edith to frown, and sigh. Cora continued: "Even your grandmother has admitted some reluctance in being perfectly happy with this. He's a fine gentleman, but you would ultimately be a wife _and _caretaker to him, in the end."

Exasperated, Edith looked around the room. "If Papa had gone to war, and been injured, would you have loved him any less?"

The look of shock on Cora's face had Edith feeling a bit smug for her clever comparison.

"Well of course not... I -"

"Wouldn't you have been happy to help him, whatever it was he needed?" Edith continued.

"But Edith, darling. Are you certain? Do you love him?" Cora knew her daughter was just as obstinate as Mary was. In fact, since the war, Cora had seen more of Edith's personality come to light, and watched her growth as a person - though she may not have made these observations known. What had always been true of the middle child of the Earl of Grantham, was that she had a stubbornness to her, a steadfast and unshakable determination to see things through the way she wanted.

Mary usually had the upper hand in these cases, but that never stopped Edith from trying. Cora had often admired her daughter for that. In any case, Edith's answer proved it:

"Yes." She said, without a shadow of a doubt in her voice.

_I know it, and she knows it. If only Anthony could know it as well..._

Her mother's expression changed to one of mild surprise, but after a moment, it softened. "Well, things seem to be going well."

"He's determined that he's too old for me." She sighed, slumping back a bit.

"Well it must be so hard for him, with his arm."

"But it wouldn't trouble him so much if he dwelt on it less!" Edith exclaimed, still quiet enough for the people around him not to hear, but Cora caught the emotion in it and saw the pain in Edith's face.

"You do know him well, don't you..." Cora said softly, realizing that the whole family had been so preoccupied with Mary and Matthew that Edith had gone almost unnoticed for months. And Cora only now began to realize it was because Edith had taken to driving, and was seldom in the house when she could avoid it.

Edith smiled at her mother, nodding, when the two older men returned to their party.

Robert smiled at his wife, and offered her his arm. "Would you care to dance?" He asked, to which Cora replied by standing wordlessly and walking off with him, a gloved hand wrapped around his arm.

Anthony looked at Edith with a tired expression, one that sent a pang of sorrow through her heart. She knew exactly what he was thinking: dancing is no longer what it used to be.

"Would you like to dance?" She asked suddenly, boldly.

Anthony's mouth dropped open slightly, and his blue eyes looked down at her in surprise. "Lady Edith, I-"

Before he could reply, Edith was on her feet and taking a step toward him. "Do you trust me?" She asked, once they were at a distance that was probably too close for most people to deem as 'safe'.

He paused, not in thought, but caught in the beauty he found in her face at that moment. Her brown eyes staring, determined back into his, yet with a softness he could hardly comprehend. Her lips were set in the same determined way, but their pink color and their shape distracted him from thought.

He could only nod.

"Can we take this off you?" She said, motioning to his sling.

"Yes, but..."

"Trust me?"

He nodded again, this time with a smile, and he used his good hand to slip the other from the black sling. His right arm fell by his side, and he watched it with a bitterness visible in his clear blue eyes.

Edith wasn't deterred, however, and smiled up at him. "There."

With that, she began walking in the direction of the dance floor, Sir Anthony in tow. He walked slowly, his eyes drinking in the sight of her pale skin, her shoulderblades creating the most delightful effect in the light as she went.

She then stopped as the orchestra finished their song. The floor cleared and couple reassembled, Mary and Matthew among them. Anthony came to stand in front of Edith, still unclear about what to do - since she seemed so sure of _something_.

Wordlessly, she looked up at him and put her right arm on his left shoulder, opposite of where it would have been had he still the use of his right arm. She looked down, her left hand dropping to the level of the hand now hanging at his side. She took hold of it gently, and smiled to herself.

He then, finally raised his left arm to circle around her upper back, now supporting the arm that she had resting on his shoulder.

"It's a bit awkward..." She said quietly, marking the obvious in that the embrace was opposite to the traditional - which would effectively change the steps. "But I thought -" He shook his head.

"You're so very clever." He said. And she blushed, head down as the music started up again.

She didn't notice the look in his eyes as he watched her, flawlessly making the indignity of injury seem like nothing at all. It was a look that marked a realization.

_That's it_. He thought, as their dance slowly became more and more confident, getting used to the directional difference. _The moment she was talking about. _When he knew one thing, and one thing only.

Sir Anthony Strallan realized that the moment she put her arm on his shoulder, and slipped her hand into his, she didn't see him as a broken soldier, twenty-odd years her senior and incapable of normal life. He was no different than when he had gone to war, in her eyes.

And he was in love with her. As much as he had ever been.

_And this time, I won't run away. Despite my promises of letting her go _- he found the breaking of his own word to be somewhat amusing.

But this time, he wasn't inclined to let her go.


	8. Moments of Truth

**A/N: **I just. I love Downton Abbey. So much. I hope everyone in the UK is excited for the first episode of the new season - anyhow, I really hope you like this chapter. I had so much fun writing it - and tried to stay as genuine to the characters as I could. I feel like Anthony actually has a flirtatious side to him... one that, once he's comfortable with someone, he can show and be a little bit more than the awkward man that he seems to be.

Anyhow, the characters and places of Downton aren't mine. Except Elisabeth, so bear with me.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 7 - _Moments of Truth_

The evening passed all too quickly for Anthony.

He felt time slipping away, even as he danced with Edith.

To his great surprise, he danced with a few other women throughout the night, who had seen the way Edith "dealt" with his injury and were very pleased to try. Edith, too, had her fair share of dances, but found herself sitting with Anthony whenever they were not dancing with others - or each other.

Around eleven, Cora and Robert sought them out and suggested that they leave presently, if they were to get back that night at all.

Anthony and Edith danced once more, as did Mary and Matthew, before the Earl of Grantham left to thank the Russell's once more.

"Lady Edith, do excuse me for a moment." Sir Anthony said, standing up.

Nodding, she watched after him curiously as he walked after her father.

In the meantime, they began the task of finding their coats and getting ready to go out into the crisp April air.

* * *

Sir Anthony found Lord Grantham on his way back from the Russell's library, where they had taken momentary refuge from the bustling party.

"Sir Anthony." Robert said, stopping in the hallway. "I think everyone will be outside by now."

"Ah yes, I expect so.""Is there something I can do?"

"Well," Anthony had to admit his shyness - the last time he almost asked Edith for her hand, he hadn't talked to Robert first. Only because he was afraid of her refusal - and it turned out being for the good that he didn't ask then.

"I was actually wondering, if I might ask something of you." He said nervously.

"By all means, ask." Robert replied, his tone somewhat cautioning - as though he could ask, but it didn't meant the Earl of Grantham would answer.

"It's less of a favour and more of a very fond request." He began, smiling. "I wondered, that is, if I might have your blessing to ask for Lady Edith's hand in marriage."

Robert looked at the other man with surprise, hinting also at shock. Twenty years before, it was customary for men to ask for permission to marry their intended, but the tradition had almost completely died out. Anthony probably knew it marked his age, but he would have felt uncomfortable not asking - especially where getting her father's blessing would have been important to Edith.

"Well, I have to say I'm surprised." Lord Grantham said after a moment, his expression softening. "I had thought there was something between you before the war." He took a purposeful pause, during which Anthony interjected: "But you were surprised nothing came of it."

"I confess, I was."

"It was my mistake. I meant to propose that day, but did not have the chance."

Robert watched him, something in the other gentleman's mannerisms spoke of another side to the story. Still, he wasn't one to pry when the situation didn't call for it.

Nodding, Robert pursed his lips. "Well, I don't see why not. If she's happy to have you, we'll be fortunate to have you ask part of the family."

Relief washed over Sir Anthony, and he realized that having Robert's blessing also added a little self-confidence.

_And if I'm fortunate enough to have her accept me. After all this._

He hadn't trusted her enough then, at the garden party. He had trusted Mary's words instead - because he was already full of nerves and he was afraid of rejection. So much, that he made rejection for himself.

And then he trusted her implicitly to make up for it, after she promised that they would only be friends - again, his mistake. She was clever, and more sly than he had imagined. He couldn't help but smile when he thought of how she_ must_ be aware of what she did to him. How could he not love her?

"Thank you, Lord Grantham." He said finally, outstretching his left hand.

Shaking hands, the men nodded and then turned, walking down the hallway and out into the cool night air.

_This time, I won't let my nerves get the best of me._

Anthony thought, moving toward his own vehicle, where the Lady Edith stood patiently waiting for him.

* * *

Edith's hand trembled.

They were nearing Downton, a quarter of an hour away from turning into the grand park of the estate.

_I don't want to go back there._ Edith thought, heaving an audible sigh. The evening had gone well, better than she had hoped, in fact. Yet, returning home, as she knew, marked the end of the night. She and Anthony had been together almost the entire time, and that was how she liked it.

Now, as the night of frivolity threatened to come to a close, she found herself reluctant to let it.

Anthony seemed to notice the unrest going on beside him, and looked to her. "Lady Edith." He addressed quietly.

"Yes?" She said, her voice immediately hopeful at his tone of voice. He spoke that way to her only when he was about to say something of great importance.

"I wanted to thank you again." He said, a slight but very genuine smile on his lips. "For this evening. For everything."

"Everything?" She questioned, the naive tone in her voice causing him to melt inside.

"Yes. The other day, you said I was to tell you, when I experienced something certain. Something very true."

Edith's heart skipped a beat, and then seemed to go into overdrive in order to compensate. "Oh?" Was all she could manage, a stupid smile pulling at her lips as she looked up at him.

"Yes. Something I believe I ought to thank you for." He said and looked down, reaching over and gingerly taking her own, shaking hand into his.

"Lady Edith, these past few weeks, you have singlehandedly reminded me that I'm not a helpless old man. At least, it doesn't feel that way when I'm with you."

She was speechless, and felt very helpless in that moment. At his complete mercy. She knew, because she had been there once with him before.

_Only to have it amount to nothing_. She thought, desperately trying not to let her emotions run away with her.

"I owe you so much, Edith."

She nearly gasped when he dropped the title in her name, referring to her in the most intimate way. She loved the sound of it.

His thumb stroked her hand as he held it, and she covered their hands with her other, unwittingly pulling towards her.

"I would do anything to repay you." He said. His tone hushed, he waited for her to reply.

_Anything_? Her heart was working a mile a minute.

"I would lov- I would so much like for you to call me Edith." She paused, suddenly shy and marked by the blush that now tinged her cheeks. "Just... Edith."

He smiled, a slight look of confusion on his face. "But I have …"

"Every day."

It was so simple a statement, that it took him a moment for his brain to go over all of its possible meanings.

Every day. The words echoed in both of their minds.

He didn't see or talk to her every day... did that mean she wanted to?

Sir Anthony Strallan could hardly answer without giving the whole thing away, and so he chuckled innocently, but said nothing else.

Poor Edith didn't know how to react to the silence._ Perhaps he was just being polite?_ Heaven forbid her mind get away on her and she misinterpret the older man. She knew all too well what her heart was capable of, and it suddenly felt it might be in danger of being broken again; after all, Edith had given him her word that their friendship was purely platonic - what if it still was, for him?

Her heartbeat didn't slow down, but she had no words with which to ease it, or the feeling of uneasiness in her chest.

All she could do, in the few minutes before her return to Downton, was take a risk.

She looked up at Anthony, who had changed his focus to the passing scenery beyond the window. Her hands still wrapped around his gently, she pulled closer them closer to her, timidly, and then rested her head against his shoulder.

He stiffened at the touch, not daring to look down for fear of causing her to recoil.

She was warm. He could smell her, sweet and very much like the spring air outside. And she was soft. From all he could tell through his overcoat and layers of formal dress underneath, he knew that he wanted to feel this from her again. _Every day_.

Then he breathed out, and Edith inhaled, smiling to herself at how perfectly her head rested against his shoulder. _The exact right height_. She thought.

They remained in silence until the tall turrets of Downton came within view, the lights of the park flooding the area and bathing the new grass in a strange glow.

All too soon, Anthony looked down at the young woman resting at his side and spoke. "Edith..." He found it difficult to drop the title, especially since he hadn't executed _his_ part of the plan - but he knew it had been the right choice when he saw the look in her eyes.

"It is time I relinquish you to Downton, my dear." He said, a hint of a sadness thinly masked audible.

She smiled at his choice of words. "Must you?" She knew how flirtatious it sounded - she didn't care.

It was Anthony's turn to experience the familiar feeling of one's heart skipping a beat, which he bore well enough. He chuckled. "I must. But," His pause was meant to catch Edith's attention - which it did. "I wonder if I might borrow you for a moment, before you go. Perhaps take a quick turn with me... after such a long drive, I feel it might be beneficial to walk about for a moment."

_I was never much good at making excuses_.

The car stopped, and Edith nodded. "Of course."

All three cars had pulled up to the main entrance, though only Carson and O'Brien stood outside waiting to welcome them in; it was well after 2am, and Robert had clearly allowed the wait staff to sleep but for those who were willing to be awake so late.

"Sir Anthony," called Cora as she walked over to the pair of them. "Thank you so much for taking Edith. It was a tremendous help." She smiled up and him and put a hand on Edith's shoulder.

"It was my pleasure, I assure you." Was his reply, nodding respectfully.

"Well," Cora sighed, turning to her daughter. "Your father and I are going in. Have a good night, Sir Anthony." She said with finality, after giving Edith a very curious look.

Her mother left them.

Alone once again, Edith blushed, unsure of what to do next.

Thankfully, Anthony offered her his left arm, which she took, and they began slowly walking away from the main entrance and toward the grassy path that would lead them toward Edith's favourite patch of trees.

"You know," He said suddenly, stopping once they were out of earshot.

_A moment of truth, Anthony._ He reminded himself, trying to quell the nervousness that had resurfaced.

Edith looked up, her grip on his arm tightening slightly.

"I thought I might ask you something." The look in his eyes was almost too much for her - it spoke of so many emotions not expressed, so much love that she almost felt bashful for experiencing it all firsthand.

She could only nod.

Breathing in, he continued:

"For so long, I've tortured myself in the knowledge that I let you slip away from me. And then, after the war, I thought it best to let you go - I couldn't bear the thought of you being stuck as a nurse for the rest of my life. And to have you come to resent me for it."

Edith had to force herself not to interject at his self-deprecation. She knew he meant it kindly to her, but she could hardly stand to hear him speak about himself so meanly.

"But as I said in the car," He paused, taking a breath and coming to stand before her, leaning in. Her arm dropped away from his, but he caught her hand in his and held it tightly. "You've reminded me that while I did lose certain things in the war, I came back with the opportunity to gain more than I had when I left."

She was sure he could hear her heart beating.

"I'm sorry for all of this. Being so contrary, and for being so weak at the time. _I_ was the one who told you to give up on the notion that you and I should be together. But now," he sighed. "I can't imagine anything else." Smiling, he knelt down before her, drawing her hand to his lips.

"Lady Edith Crawley, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Edith couldn't keep in the few tears that had been taking refuge in her eyelids since the beginning of his speech. There was too much emotion for her to process. Sadness, worry, paranoia - everything she had felt for this man in the last six years coming to a head and flowing down her cheeks the moment he dropped to one knee. Still, the feeling of elation struck her, and she couldn't stop smiling. Not that she wanted to.

Finally, she nodded, wiping her tears away delicately with her other hand.

"I can't believe it, I - Yes. I will marry you." She shook her head, and laughed.

Laughing at herself, for being so determined in this - for succeeding. Laughed at him, for being so foolish and sweet. She laughed at them, for taking so long to rectify their long, drawn-out romance.

Anthony smiled up at her, and kissed her hand again. Then he was standing again, and Edith finally stopped laughing long enough for her to register that his left hand was now tilting her chin upwards.

"I can hardly believe..." She whispered, slowly inching toward him.

"Can't believe what?" He asked at the same volume, their lips millimeters from one another, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I had this stupid plan." She admitted. "I told you - I refused to give up on you. I can't believe it worked."

He then closed the space between them, kissing her softly, quickly. Pulling away, he stood up and chuckled. "My dear, I don't know if you can take full responsibility for this."

"Hmm?" She was in a haze from the sudden touch of his lips.

"My love for you was all that kept me going." He said simply. "I don't know that your plan would have worked so well were I not secretly hoping for this all along."

Edith smiled, and shook her head slowly. "You love me." It was less of a statement than a questioning, but she also knew better than to doubt the gentleman - now her fiance - standing before her.

"I do." He said, leaning in further, but not closing the distance between them. This time, it was she who bridged that gap.

Kissing him with as much tenderness as would have melted any man's heart, she pulled away with an equal look in her brown eyes. "I love you Anthony." She whispered, a hopeful look on her face.

He found her impossibly alluring in that moment, and he wished that he had use of both arms so that he could pull her closer, encircle her. The one arm he had would have to do.

Anthony's left hand found her waist, the smooth of her jacket unable to deter him from noting how slight she was. He pulled her gently, testing, to see if she would allow him to be so close. She did, and she rested her head against his chest, softening against him as though it were the most natural thing. Edith couldn't help but feel for Mary then, for she realized how nice it felt being even _this_ close to a man - although she knew that in the case with Pamuk, there had been no love. This was different, and yet she could appreciate that small detail.

Edith inhaled, and smiled into his lapel. "Should we go back?"

He sighed dramatically. "Yes, I suppose so." His young fiance replied with a chuckle. "They'll send out a search party soon if I don't have you back soon."

"They won't mind, once I tell them why you kept me away." She wasn't completely sure how pleased her mother would be - or her father for that matter - but she knew that it would relieve most of them, at the very least.

"I should think your father already knows."

This surprised Edith, and she pulled away from him slightly, looking up in mild confusion.

Chuckling, Anthony kept his hand at her waist and tried to alleviate the confusion. "I confess I... I asked your father, for his blessing. I knew I could have done without it, but I wanted to know that -"

Edith smiled up at him in wonderment. So much that he stopped mid-sentence and allowed himself for once, finally, to get lost in her eyes. Slowly, she raised up on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"You think of everything." She said, her smile still captivating him.

Eventually, the cool air around them began to wear in, and Edith shivered. Anthony's hand dropped from her waist before he walked around to her other side, and allowing her to once again take his arm as they wordlessly walked back to the house.

Minutes later, they stood in front of the estate, Anthony's car behind him.

"When will I see you again?" Edith asked.

"Whenever you should like to." He said with as much honesty as he had in him.

"Will you come for dinner tomorrow? We can announce the engagement then, if you like." She said, blushing as soon as the word 'engagement' left her lips.

"Delightful." He said, nodding. The happiness he felt then rendering him unable to think of anything beyond the lovely young woman before him.

Edith took a nervous step forward, suddenly self-conscious. "Well," she stopped a foot away from him. "Goodbye then."

He found her shy moments to be uncommonly sweet, and he smiled when he took her hand in his. "Goodnight, Edith."

Though he fondly wished to feel her soft lips once more, he knew that it was his time to leave. He kissed her hand, and let it slip out of his own as he took a few steps backward, where his driver had the door open and waiting. She smiled, waving as the car set off.

She headed back into the house alone, feeling happier than she ever remembered, and more than she ever expected. _Life_, she mused,_ can be so funny, at times._


	9. Funny In Her Own Way

**A/N: **Second last one, folks! Sorry its taken me so long, these last few weeks have been pretty crazy. I just uprooted my life to move to a different province for a new job. Le sigh.

Anyhow, now that canon is marching on without me (Holy eff, my OTPs never actually happen!), I thought I should put a rush on this. I'm still so sure something dreadful is going to happen in the show and I'll just cry and cry.

ANYWAY.

There will be more. And thank you, everyone, for all of your kind and lovely reviews!

Enjoy!

WS

* * *

Chapter 8 - _Funny In Her Own Way_

Edith and Anthony stood together in the corner of the room that night after dinner, heads together, hand in hand. The announcement had indeed been made at dinner, and as they expected, a mixture of reactions and congratulations washed over them from everyone at the table. Her grandmother had been there, and her reaction had possibly been the most anticipated - at least by Edith.

Staying true to form, the smallest hint of a smile and a nod was all it took to flood Edith with a pride for her success. She knew that the Lady Violet had always been a friend to Anthony, but had been reluctant to admit that the two were well-suited to one another after he returned, injured, from the war. But Edith knew that within the smile was a congratulations for her engagement, and the nod was meant to congratulate her on her victory.

Now that they were all in the drawing room having tea, Anthony and Edith had found themselves in their own little world.

Looking down at their hands together, Edith inhaled deeply and smiled.

Anthony watched her with adoration, his head cocked to the side. "What are you thinking?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, her bright hair catching warm light from the room around her "Oh, it's nothing." She said nonchalantly. "At least, it wasn't important."

"I doubt that." He challenged, his tone light.

She laughed, tugging on his hand gently. "No, really. I was just enjoying..." She sighed, a blush tinting her pale cheeks before Anthony stepped forward and pressed his lips into her hair. The action surprised her, and felt her train of thought slip away.

"Forgive me." He whispered against her, the smile on his face audible.

"Why?" She asked innocently.

He chuckled, a low sort of laugh that Edith had never heard from the older man before. She had to admit the sound tickled her - the way it met her ears and the way it seemed to spread warmth all throughout her body.

Anthony pulled away, and immediately she felt some of that warmth slip away with him.

"I interrupted you." He said, humor in his voice. "You were saying?"

She sighed, finally reminded of the words she had been trying to say when she had been so pleasantly distracted.

"It was... I was only enjoying the feeling of," She paused again, and Anthony had to restrain himself from kissing her again for the pink that swept across her face once more. "Knowing that now I have you." Edith could hardly believe she had managed to get him to reconsider, let alone that they were now engaged.

"I have you." He said simply, though his heart jumped at the thought that Edith Crawley would be his wife someday soon, and he would be able to enjoy her company every day thereafter.

She smiled shyly and backed away from him when her mother's voice floated through the thrum of conversations going on independently of their own. Anthony let her go, the summon had been for her alone - and he saw Lord Grantham walking over, probably to wish him a personal congratulation. "We'll talk later." He said as she stepped back.

She nodded. "No doubt Mama will be wanting me to start worrying about wedding preparations." Edith joked, only too happy to be thinking about being married to Sir Anthony Strallan.

…

The wedding wasn't a big affair. At least, not after Mary and Matthew's marriage, which had been only months before.

It was, however, everything that the couple wanted.

With the family in attendance - including Anthony's sister and husband from London, and of course the staff at both Downton and Anthony's estate, Edith couldn't have imagined herself being happier to have her father walk her down the aisle.

Anthony mused to her after the service that he had almost forgotten his vows at the sight of her in her wedding dress, to which she could only blush in response.

She half expected it to have been an exaggeration, but some small part of her wished he had been serious - the thought of being able to distract her husband with appearance alone made her even more excited for that night, when they would be alone together as husband and wife for the first time.

That was another matter altogether.

The months of planning had seen the two of them spending most of their time with one another, and whether it had actually been necessary for so much time spent alone, neither would tell. Those months had led them down a rather surprising path of almost compromising passion - adoring glances turning into affectionate touches, which turned into fraught kisses that brought on less-than-innocent carresses and heavy breathing.

Anthony was surprised as ever to find her elegant fingers bunched up in his lapel and her lips on his the moment they stepped out of the reception.

It was late evening, and the party had finally dissipated - allowing the couple to make their excuses and retire to the car that was waiting for them outside Downton. They hadn't gotten far when Edith set upon him, her lips finding his in the light provided by the estate. He smiled into her and cupped her face with his left hand.

They finally broke the kiss, coming up for air when Edith smiled up at him, her expression a mixture of elation and mischief. "Can we go home now?" She asked.

Home. The word echoed in his mind. His home.

Their home.

Where she would be from now on.

He looked on her with tenderness, and she mirrored his expression.

"How I've gotten so lucky, I'll never know." He said without thinking.

Edith blushed, raising a hand to Anthony's face. "Are you sure you're the only lucky one?" She replied quietly. He gently pressed against her warm hand, and they inhaled a contented sigh together.

"Can I tell you something?" He said as he opened the door for her a moment later.

Gathering her dress around her, Edith stepped into the car and once seated, nodded. "Of course."

Once he was settled, and her hand was comfortably in his, he looked at her tenderly and said: "Since the first time I took you for that drive..." His voice became even quieter, and she looked up at him with curiosity. "I have wanted to be near you. Every moment of every day. Only, I never thought that after the war, I would have had even the slightest chance of meaning something to you again."

Some part of her had anticipated his statement, and from the moment he saw the look in his clear blue eyes, she had to strain to hear him over the beating of her own heart.

She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she was at a loss for something adequate in response. She had felt the same, but didn't know how to put it into words without ruining the moment.

Edith prolonged her silence by pressing her lips against his.

Now I'm yours. Her mind answered silently, hoping that her thoughts somehow made it to him from the emotion she poured into the kiss.

It did.

Instead of pondering the mysteries of his fortune, he let his mind wander over the details of her soft lips, the curve of her shoulder gently pressed against his, her delicate hand wrapped around his own. Her smell. The sound of her breathing. His wife.

"My darling..." He whispered, pulling away.

She smiled against his lips, and made a pleased noise.

The car rolled on, and at length, the driver announced their arrival at the Strallan estate. Doors were opened, and hands held as both husband and wife exited the automobile.

Coming up to the front door, Edith paused, causing Anthony to turn and look at her. "Is something the matter?"

"No, it's just..." She paused, wanting to enjoy the feeling of walking into her new home.

"I understand." He said knowingly, taking a step back to be at her side.

She looped her arm in his and nodded. I'm ready.

The two of them walked slowly into the house, Edith noticing how different the familiar foyer felt now that she was lady of the estate. Smiling to herself, she noted: and I've done rather well for myself after all. Looking up at Anthony, she felt pride bloom in her chest as well as the deep love that had been growing there for years.  
"Welcome home, sir. And milady." A voice floated over them from ahead, and Edith looked up at the familiar faces of Davis, and the speaker, Ms Lyall.

"Thank you." Anthony said as Davis immediately strode forward and began to slip the jacket from his shoulders. Elisabeth did the same for Edith.  
"Will you be needing anything tonight sir?" Davis asked, normally being the one to aid the man with his nightclothes, the old valet thought to ask just this once.

Anthony looked at Edith subtly, and she smiled up at him with that hint of mischief he had come to love so fervently.

"No, that's alright." She replied on his behalf, causing the dark-haired housekeeper to smile ever so slightly. .

Davis was unsure if he should wait for a confirmation from his employer, but the woman standing next to him seemed confident in Edith's answer. "Very well." She said, backing away with that knowing smile still on her face. Davis seemed to follow suit eventually, though just before they were out of sight, Elisabeth turned one last time, saying: "And congratulations, sir." She looked at Edith and curtsied before she was gone.

And Edith and Anthony were alone.

"Well." She said finally, her voice cutting through the air.

"Yes?"

Edith smirked, albeit shyly, and took his hand. "Will you show me around the house?"

Anthony could have taken it as flirtation, but he wasn't sure if she meant it as such. Still, the thought of his wedding night had certainly been on his mind for days. He was nervous however, much more nervous than the first time around.

I was young then.

And had both arms, if he were being truly clear with himself. But having his young wife gently pulling his hand in the direction she knew led to the staircase, set his mind on fire.

"Gladly." Was his reply, and he allowed her to pull him to the stairs, where he took over and then walked her down a long corridor. His room was the one on the end – but he paused in the middle of the hallway first. "Your room is -"

"Don't even try that."

The look in her eyes was firm, more resolute an expression than he believed to have ever seen from her.

"I thought you might want your own room." He said frankly, though still very honestly hoping that she would continue to look at him with such fervor.

Oh please. She thought to herself with mild exasperation. Edith shook her head and boldly closed the distance between their bodies, her long, thin arms draping over his shoulders. "Perhaps someday. But for now, you can't let yourself out of being my husband."

A blush burned into her cheeks then, which he hardly noticed for he was mesmerized by the glint in her brown eyes.

"Especially not tonight." She finished, her tone hushed.

Anthony almost lost himself in her at that moment, and if he hadn't been long desiring to truly be a husband to her, he was sure he would have been immobilized by the seduction in her voice. He was a mostly a gentleman, after all.

"As you wish." He replied, finding it difficult to pull himself from her embrace when she was already so near to him. Still, Anthony knew that they couldn't spend their night in the hallway, and finally they made their way to his bedroom.

As he shut the door behind them, he looked at Edith who was already halfway into the room.

She beckoned to him, turning around to reveal the back of her dark green dress. "Would you care to help me?" She asked a little nervously. Despite her excitement and the anticipation of all that was to come, she couldn't help but be very aware that she was new to all of this.

Anthony fought hard not to rush over to her and pull her tight against him. Composure, he learned many years before, went a long way. "I'm beginning to doubt that I'll ever say no to you." He teased, and walked slowly to her.

Finally, he reached up with his left hand to undo the top button at the nape of her neck, and a finger brushed ever so gently against her pale skin. She shivered at this, and his breath halted.

_Heavens. _

How was he to manage, with a woman like this, who shivered when he touched her?

Edith sensed his hesitation and glanced over her shoulder. "Anthony?" Her voice betrayed her nerves, and she worried intensely in that moment that she had somehow got it wrong – that he did not desire her, physically.

Sir Anthony caught the uncertainty in her eyes in that split second, and he remembered the nervousness he felt on his first wedding night. Smiling, he dropped his hand to her waist, and pressed a kiss into her hair. Slowly, he traveled lower with his lips until he found the bare skin of her neck.

Edith didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do.

_But the feeling of his lips... _It was all enough to make her head spin. She hadn't counted on being so affected by his touch. All she could be sure of, was how lovely the experience, and how she never expected it to be with Sir Anthony Strallan. He was a very attractive man, she knew, but the way his hand was positioned at her waist just so, the grazing of his cheek on her earlobe as his lips worked their way back up to her hair, had sent her reeling on how she was to manage _the act_ with such a man – when all she could do was wish to sink deeper and deeper into those caresses.

"Is everything alright?" He asked finally, standing back up to his full height behind her.

She could hardly believe how quickly her body longed for the touch of his lips again.

"Alright?" She repeated. "I'm so much more than alright."

_And more nervous than I could ever say. _She added mentally. _There are so many things I wish I knew... _

Her husband still looked doubtful, smiling gently as he noted the slight tension of her lower lip – a trait that he knew marked reservation of some kind on the young woman's face. "Edith..."

She sighed, and looked down.

"What... what if I'm not -" She couldn't formulate the words.

"Edith." This time, his tone was firm.

She turned slowly to face him, and he tilted her chin up with his hand. "You married me. And in doing so you've made me happier than I thought I would ever be. Happier than I deserve." His smile nearly melted her, inside and out. She felt tears again, uncertainty being stripped away with his words. _He loves me. _She reminded herself, the tears that had been beginning to form glistening on her eyelids.

Anthony kissed her forehead gently, and then her eyelids, tasting salt. He moved his kisses to her lips, and she instantly reacted, pulling him into her by grasping his white collared shirt with her trembling hands. He was surprised by the rawness of it all, and very aware of her body pressed into his. Even through the layers of fabric between them, he could feel the heat emanating from her, and she from him.

_My husband. _She reminded herself with pride.

She wasn't sure when she fell so completely in love with him. Maybe it was in that moment, as he kissed her – more real and pleasant than any of her novels could have been, and maybe it was long before, six years before when he invited her to a concert instead of the perfect Mary - she no longer knew. Nor did she know when he had finally undone that top button of her dress, and she felt the material slide from her shoulder.

Her fingers had found their way into his tie, unwinding the knot and clumsily pulling apart the buttons of his dress shirt.

It was all a blur.

And though her mind reeled, she remembered every sensation. Every feather light kiss he placed on her face, every warm finger that set her skin ablaze with the simplest of touches.

"Anthony..." She mumbled finally, pulling away from him just long enough to draw breath.

"Yes?" He answered, just as breathlessly.

"Do you love me?" She asked, her voice fraught with innocence.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Edith, you know that I love you."

"And this is real?"

"Heavens, I hope so."

The smile on his face was made obvious by his tone, and Edith smiled.

"Then..." There was that shyness again, that struck her every time she tried to do something daring.

Anthony waited for her to continue, for he knew she would. He knew how brave she was.

He didn't have long to wait, for she stepped away from him – creating quite the vision, with her evening gown half off her shoulder, exposing her collarbones, pink with a natural blush – and took a few steps backward, toward the bed.

"Will you come here, please." She said with the most endearing questioning tone. He followed her, unaware of anything else in the world.

Suddenly he realized that they were still very much in their dinner attire. Normally, Davis would have provided him with sleep wear, and though he knew where it was, he realized that all of Edith's belongings had been delivered to the room that housekeeping had laid out for them.

Edith saw the thought cross his face, and she cocked her head to the side.

"What is it?"

"I've just realized," he said, looking back at the door. "Your nightclothes..."

Edith couldn't help but laugh.

_Anthony... you practical, endearing man._

She shushed him, much to his surprise, and let her dress continue to slide from her shoulder.

Standing up on her toes, she brought her lips a mere centimeter from his, suddenly feeling more confident than ever before.

"We needn't worry about any of that right now."

He inhaled sharply, her smell intoxicating him as he lowered down enough for his kiss to be on her. She was so spellbinding. His left hand came up to graze her shoulder, now bare and still pink with the blush of her mild uncertainty.

She smiled against him as he touched her, and she continued her work on his shirt, and slipped his right hand from the sling. He felt the weight at his side and he broke the kiss, looking down at his arm. Edith took the opportunity to remove the black fabric from over his head, holding it carefully in her hands.

"Drop it." He said then, surprising both of them with the urgency in his tone.

"But I should put it som-" She began to counter, unused to a demanding tone in his voice. He cut her off by saying "Please, Edith. Let it go." And, hearing the bitterness and frustration of his arm slip away as he spoke, she obliged. The fabric fell to the floor.

It was soon followed by his jacket, and the dress shirt that she had wasted no time in undoing.

Anthony seemed rather eager to keep her body close to his, as though to prevent her from seeing his scars. Undeterred, Edith would not let him think of it. She pulled away deliberately, laying kisses over his collarbones and working down to where his torso was pierced by the bullet. The scar tissue reminding her of all that she had seen in the war.

_But I love this scar as much as I love him._

It was all part of him, and it was him she loved.

He couldn't believe her comfort with the situation. He and Maud had been cautious, timid lovers. There had always been asking, more words than actions, and a lot of apologizing.

But with Edith, suddenly, there was a new feeling. He _needed_ her. He wanted to feel her against him more than anything, so much so that _asking_ seemed redundant. Her breathing was heavy as he pulled her close, roughly, with his one arm. She cast her own around his shoulders and he walked her back slowly so that she was standing exactly between the bed and him.

As she felt the bed press into the back of her legs, she shrugged one arm out of her dress, and then the other.

Anthony realized what she was doing, and together they pushed the garment further and further down her torso so that hung from her hips, her upper body bare but for the bodice that kept her breasts covered. He looked at her tenderly, pulling away to admire her in her current state of undress.

"Are you sure you wan to do this?" He asked.

"Of course!" She said, this time sounding a little incredulous. "You're my husband, and I should like to be sure of that fact by morning." She teased. He chuckled, a hand coming up to her face and stroking her cheek gently.

"I mean that there are... a great many other things we could do." He wasn't sure how comfortably he could talk about such things, but all he knew was that he was done hurting her. He wanted to enjoy the night, but more so, he wanted to make sure she felt loved, and happy. _And satisfied. _"I want so much for you to be mine but, I live in fear of hurting you." He confessed.

Edith blushed furiously.

"I'm not afraid." She said, the nervousness that had plagued her seeming so little, in the light of her husband's care.

"You were always so brave." He said with adoration.

She smiled to herself, looking down at his chest.

After a moment, she breathed in deeply, and slid her dress off her, the fabric pooling on the floor around her feet.

Looking up at him sheepishly, she put her knee up on the bed behind her, and then the other. Kneeling there, with her hands now on his chest, she beckoned him forward.

"Come, Anthony. It's time you let me love you."

And with that, he could no longer think. No longer debate with himself that he was somehow in a dream, that she truly wanted him. She was real, her warm hands beckoning him to her. Her lips calling his name, and her body waiting for him.

"You're funny, you know." He said with a smile, following her onto the bed. She looked up at him with mild confusion. "I've never been funny."

"Oh yes," he counted. "In your own way."

She smiled at him as they lay together, she on his left as his hand managed to undo the back of her bodice with surprising dexterity.

"That's what you said about Maud."

"Yes, but you are. But even more so. You make me laugh, smile... everything."

"And you do the same for me. You love me." She paused, and was instantly glad for how loved he made her feel. It was a love that she had never experienced with her family, and that she was unlikely to feel again.

Anthony smirked, as her bodice came off and he finally saw his wife naked. The smirk turned into awe, near reverence, and he was certain she would tell him that he was gawking. But before he gave her the chance, he kissed her, saying: "I have not loved you yet. Not completely."

She made a small noise of approval, and as he moved over her, she felt part of her slipping away; felt Edith Crawley, as she had been, dissolving into the background of the new life she was about to begin as Lady Edith Strallan. With every touch of her husband's lips, she felt a new person blossoming within her, along with the desire that came with the touch of his hand and the feel of his skin.

When they made love, it reminded her that she was no longer that same Edith Crawley – though Anthony loved her even as that young, foolish, funny girl. She had succeeded in marrying the man she so desperately sought, and now she was a new woman with a new life ahead of her.

_A life I can't wait to live. _


	10. Epilogue

**A/N: **Here it is. The final chapter. There has been so much speculation and apparent spoiler-y type information going around regarding this couple that I can hardly bear to watch the show anymore. I hate to be _that_ viewer, but if Julian Fellowes (who owns the delightful universe of Downton Abbey, by the way) does anything else to cause dear Edith misery - and Heaven forbid it be her who dies, I will likely stop watching the show.

These characters have somehow become far too near and dear to my heart.

I wanted to thank everyone who sent such lovely reviews to me throughout my writing this fic. It was received far better than I ever could have hoped. And for that, I am so grateful to all of you reviewers and readers for being so unfailingly kind.

Merci.

WS

* * *

Chapter 9 - _Epilogue_

Edith Strallan had always been an avid reader.

She used to use books as a distraction - pulling her from her depressing reality and plunging her mind into the glorious fictitious worlds of authors from around the globe. Lately, however, her interest in books had much increased, due to the amount of reading she did for the eager ears of the tiny blonde girl sitting on her lap.

Three years had passed since the first night she had spent with Sir Anthony Strallan as husband and wife, and when almost a year passed with no sign of pregnancy, Edith begun to fear something was amiss. Anthony had blamed himself, of course, and as he was more than content to have the wife of his dreams, the small part of him that had retained hope for someday having children slipped away.

But soon thereafter, the news that Edith was indeed expecting came with more force and joy than Anthony would have ever expected. He dared not expect too much - he knew his heart couldn't take another miscarriage, as had been the case many a time with Maud, especially where his beautiful young wife was concerned. _That was one of the reasons you wanted to give her up, after all._ He thought to himself on the night she went into labor. He knew that sterility increased with age - and he didn't want to be responsible for her to never have children.

But the daughter that was born to them later that night could not have made him happier.

Willa Elisabeth Strallan looked much more like Anthony than she did her mother, but in Edith's mind, it was probably best. Her blonde hair curled in the most adorable ringlets, framing her face like many an artistic rendering of cherubic angels in flight, offset by the bright blue of her eyes that would only ever make Edith proud of the fact that she had helped create such a perfect little being.

At nearly three years old, she was also quite a bit more intelligent than one would have expected.

Her voracious mind had her comprehending books meant for children twice her age, and she delighted in both the images attached to the words, and hearing the language read aloud by whoever had the time to humor her. Usually, it was Ms Lyall who sat curled up with the small girl in one of the library chairs, but Edith did partake in the raising of her daughter - far more than Cora had ever done for her.

The love of books was something Edith and her daughter had in common, and when the days were rainy and no work could be done, nothing delighted the two more than sitting in the parlour with a book.

It was on such a day, that Edith's voice rang clear in the room, the familiar story of a simplified version of Carroll's _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland _filling young Willa's mind with incredibly detailed pictures of a young blonde girl, only a few years her senior, diving into a world of exciting impossibility.

Sir Anthony stood in the doorway for some time, watching his wife and daughter with the utmost admiration in his eyes.

When Edith had come to him again less than a year before, announcing a second pregnancy, he couldn't comprehend his fortune.

While he was very pleased to have had a daughter, the birth of his son - whom they named Patrick, for the dear cousin Edith had lost in the tragedy of Titanic - delighted him to no end.

Anthony had been so very active in Willa's upbringing, giving him ample time to find out exactly how was best to hold a newborn with one arm, and how to interact again with young children. It had been so long, after all.

And there he stood, alone for the moment while Patrick slept in the nursery upstairs, admiring the picture of absolute serenity before him.

Upon noticing his presence, Willa turned to him with an immense smile, squirming in her her mother's lap and trying to lower herself down onto the floor.

Edith's head turned, a mirror image of that smile reaching Anthony's eyes with the effect of a sudden ray of light during a storm. He sighed, and a look passed between them that they had become used to - one that meant nothing but love.

Edith Strallan found that her husband was often a man of few words. It never bothered her, nor seemed uncomfortable. In fact, she often thanked him silently for teaching her the beauty of using one's eyes to express what words often lacked the ability to communicate.

And such a moment was broken by the small girl at Anthony's side, pulling gently on his pant leg and calling "Papa!" He smiled apologetically at his wife, and knelt down to the level of the blonde-haired child who immediately threw her arms around his neck.

"Hello, my darling." He whispered into her hair, wrapping his left arm around her.

"Papa!" She repeated with enthusiasm, burying her face in his neck.

"How are my girls?" He asked, looking up at Edith, who had smoothed out her long skirt and walked silently toward them.

"Quite well. Although I think we may be in danger of losing our daughter to Wonderland."

"Then I'll only have you to blame for filling her mind with such things." He joked, standing up as his back began to hover the line between discomfort and pain. Willa pouted, but stayed close to his legs.

The middle daughter of the Earl of Grantham put a hand on his chest, and turned her face up to kiss him softly on the lips.

Anthony sighed, squeezing her right hand tenderly. "It's time we put Willa down for her nap." He said quietly, looking down at the blue-eyed girl staring intently up at her parents. "Elisabeth was just about to come find you."

"Very well. Although I might need one as well!" Edith sighed, looking outside at the grey sky that was bright, and yet dark at the same time. "All this rain we've been having is casting such a gloom."

"Why don't we have Elisabeth put Willa to bed." Anthony began, a smirk twisting one side of his mouth upward. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering by her ear. "And I'll see what I can do about that gloom."

Edith's mouth dropped open slightly, a blush instantly tinting her cheeks that adorable shade of rose that still set Anthony's mind astray.

He had finally realized the effect he had on her as a man - and much to her delight, he began making use of it when the occasion called for it.

And on days as overcast or drear as this, he _made_ such occasions appear.

"Shame on you, for making a lady blush." Edith giggled, just as the dark-haired housekeeper walked by behind Anthony.

He looked down on her with a unique look of tender affection and lust, before turning to Elisabeth and ushering his daughter in her direction. "She's all yours." Said he.

Ms Lyall smiled at the young girl. "Lady Willa, I believe its time we get you upstairs."

The small blonde nodded slowly, with a slight look of confusion on her sweet face. "Elis'beth." She said, the slightest hint of a yawn audible in her tone.

"Sleep well darling." Edith said to her daughter, giving her a quick kiss.

Willa then held out a hand, which the housekeeper took. The two of them walked off together, but not before Elisabeth offered her employers a smile and a slight curtsy.

"We're so fortunate to have her here." Edith announced once the pair were out of earshot.

"Don't I know it." He said, stepping closer to his wife.

She looked up at him with a sly smile, immediately remarking his proximity.

"I'm fortunate to have you, you know." She said, her eyes meeting his with confidence.

Anthony shushed her with a finger to her lips. "Let's remind ourselves of how fortunate we are."

"But shouldn't we be preparing to leave?" She said seriously, wishing with all her heart she weren't about to remind him of an engagement. "Mary asked us to Downton for tea - and I said yes days ago, this time. We can't avoid it now."

Anthony sighed, and bowed his head, forehead resting against her own.

"I suppose not." He said after a moment, letting his eyes wander the details of Edith's face and neck, collarbone, and the way the light from the room behind her lit her shoulder just so. It was all so alluring. She had that on her side one hundred percent of the time, he noted.

Edith's eyes however, had been focused on his lips. And she was beginning to remember why she had missed so many tea dates with her family at Downton. Her new estate was like a separate universe from where she grew up.

With Anthony, there was no pretense of grandeur, no trivial formality that had always seemed so crucial to Mary and her dear granny. There was only what was necessary, and good. The honesty that passed between her and Anthony slowly made her realize that she had always been loved - but she had never felt like she deserved it until becoming wife to that dear, older man.

The title of Lady had always been used to summon her, but she had never been more of a woman since being allowed to grow and develop with her new family.

Finally, she turned her face to his, and kissed him deeply. He held her face gently in one hand, stroking her cheek absentmindedly with his thumb.

"Perhaps, if you'd just give me the _slightest_ hint of how fortunate I am, I might be inclined to do the same for you later." She mumbled against his lips.

Suppressing a groan, he chuckled. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait until we can take our time?"

"Time is of the essence, my love."

"I'll take that as a no." He said, smiling against her lips as she kissed him tantalizingly slowly.

She hummed her concurrence, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're so obliging. I really am rather lucky." There was humor in her voice, but she made no attempt to hide the truth of the statement.

Anthony walked her backwards further into the room, and pushed the door shut behind him before wrapping his good arm around her slim waist. "You told me once that you felt like overshadowed by your sisters." He whispered,

She smiled up at him, pulling back to look him squarely in the eyes. "And then I met you. And I couldn't have cared less if either of them had been given all the gold in the world."

"But we're not talking about money."

"No, we're talking about the fact that I married the man I love. After some trials and tribulations, no doubt. But unlike poor Mary, there has thankfully been no trouble with having children. I _have_ children. Our children." She paused to caress his face with a delicate hand. "And I'm so, so terribly happy. All of it made possible thanks to you."

He smiled down at her, watching her eyes fill with emotion and love.

_I've loved her for my whole life_. He realized. As impossible as he knew it was, the love he felt was what he knew would be equivalent to a lifetime.

"Thank you, my dearest, darling Edith." He said. "For allowing me to love you."

And then he kissed her, before there could be any more words exchanged.

Words had always meant a great deal to Lady Edith Strallan. They could transport her to another plain of existence, distract her from her own world, or plunge her into the life of another. They had made her laugh, cry, and feel anger burn through her like a crackling flame - usually when a favourite character was being treated unfairly. Words had married her to _this_ man, this man that now kissed her, touched her, and caused her head to spin with every little graze of his teeth.

But it was all feelings that made her realize how truly fortunate she had been in her life. Miserable, for much of it, despite her wealthy family and relative ease of upbringing. It was feelings that reminded her that had she not experienced those ills, she never would have been able to appreciate the exact bliss that had settled on her in those last few years.

With the understanding of how lucky she was, came the understanding that as long as Anthony, Willa, and Patrick were in her life - she would never be overshadowed by a single soul, in any respect.

_And,_ she thought vaguely as her dress was slid from her shoulder. _I will be loved as long as I live. _


End file.
